Tales of the Seelie Courts: Ashes to Ashes
by The Seelie Court Jester
Summary: Kallen Kozuki is the Ace to the Black Knights. She is the captain of the Zero squad and Zero's personal bodyguard. She is the pilot of the Guren and played a key role in the Demon Emperor's downfall. But while she closes one diary entry to open another, the pen keeps writing. And in those delicate strokes, emotions begin to resurface, with a heartbreak she thought she'd forgotten.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Code Geass.

This is the sequel to Tales of the Seelie Courts.

* * *

A silence between spring and summer lay across the darkening skies, with the clouds ominously gathering underneath. The heavens ahead began swirling steadily into what appeared to be a storm, a storm that may prove merciless and cruel. Yet, in that wasteland, there lay a tiny refuge, an island, within the torrent of the oceans.

The waves fled ashore, nearer and nearer to the edge of the mist, while the wind beat down on the beaches. Its murderous howl ran its cool, icy finger along the glass's frames, causing them to resonate their own, unique melody. Specks of water managed to come onto the windows, and though the sun was falling to slumber, the drops managed to decorate the sights with an icy melancholy, with shards of depression already taking form. The salt was already diffusing in the air, worming its way to the humidity of the evening atmosphere. It seemed a bit surreal, the chaotic outsides; never once did it look at the calm, serene gardens.

The nonchalant behavior of the cool, quiet garden penetrated the ongoing cascades of the weather's calling. It never bothered paying any attention to the lachrymose hidden deep within the flourishing lilacs, or dirge-like swaying of snowdrops, or even the occasional berceuse of an iris blossoming. The pristine floors reflected the grandiose of the room, while the tiles gave off their own, beautiful portrayals, from the chandeliers that adorned the sides of the corridors, to the arches nearer to the ocean's shore. The gold and white marbles blended together along the storm, creating a somewhat hazy but heavenly scene, and the paintings which blessed the room surrounded the gardens with an unearthly elegance.

And the radiance was already blinding enough. It could be traced from the burnt away roses, with their ashes caressing the soil lovingly, patiently. The thorns even allowed a wayward petal to navigate their way through such a brilliant labyrinth, to the point where they maintained a sort of masochistic mentality, as they tried finding their way home. In the center of it all, there sat a small, wooden table, with two chairs sitting across from one another. In one of the chairs, there sat a fairy.

The fairy was wearing a simple, white dress, with two straps straddled to her shoulders, and a hem that barely touched her knees. Long, roseate hair covered the entirety of her back, draping to the floor with perfect ease. Her cool, pale skin shimmered sweetly across the surface's water, and her eyes exuded such beauty, with their soft, gentle orbs moving along to the water's rhythm. Her hands were placed neatly on her lap, those elongated, graceful fingers clutching her sleeves, trembling beside themselves with worry.

Footsteps emerged from behind, the sounds delicate and cautious, as if any noise would break the fragile creature. The being emerged from the plants, enticed neither by the thorns nor the waters, but rather, by the creature who sat in front of him. Like any good crusader, he wore a black mask, which the man gladly removed, and a dark, purple cape with gold trimmings on the side. On his throat was a white choker with ruffles descending from his neck, and a light, lavender undershirt that clung to his torso. Though his attire was incredibly ostentatious, it was perhaps his features would have garnered the most attention. He had copper hair, with a tinge of gold along the arrays, and a light shade of pink hidden within his bangs,. His skin was lightly tanned, a result of the sun's heavy onus. He carried striking verdant eyes, with pupils that were layered by that very same amethyst the woman possessed.

In his hands he carried a small plate, filled with light golden cookies and a few pieces of hana noren off to the side. There was a big spider-lily at the center of the plate, which, in his opinion, brought the whole display together; the fiery colors alone would probably help take her mind off of those scandalous secrets, promises in which he had no place in.

The man paused for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should continue his advances. He seemed a bit lost in his position, enamored by the woman's beauty, before he shook his head. He continued on with his little scheme, his heart beating loudly against his ears.

He stood near her, and leaned forward. His face was only a few inches away from hers. A warm smile tugged at his lips. "Euphie?" he asks.

The woman simply sat there, frozen by whatever was keeping her still. She never moved, never turned her head, never hardened her own heart. She only stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge the young man at her side. "Euphie?" he called again.

She ignored him.

He sighed, setting the plate beside her. He took the tea cup that resided next to her, swirling the liquid around the inside. He frowned slightly, the restless sorrow already bombarding his eyes. "Euphie, you need to eat, you know? I mean, I won't be back till later…"

His words beat against her body, so much so she could almost feel some resemblance of emotion evoking within her. The numbness was ebbing away bit by bit, and yet, within that moment, she could feel it coming back again, destroying her, tearing her down bit by bit without as much as a single, frustrated cry. No scream built up in her throat, no horrific anger unleashed at her unsuspecting caretaker. There was nothing at all, only a lonely solitude which prompted the young man's visit in the first place.

The man slowly straightens himself, turning his eyes away from the emptiness. He awkwardly set the plate next to 'Euphie's' arm, his arms falling to his side. His fingers managed to brush the tip of her skin. "Um…then I'll just leave this here. I have to go now, so…try and eat something…Sayako will help you."

And with that, the man left, leaving Euphemia to her own devices.


	2. Chapter 2

Suzaku remembered the day he stopped aging.

He remembered where he was, who he'd been with, what sounds he heard, when he felt the powerful surge of Euphie's magic through his veins. If he had to describe it, it seemed like someone was pouring an endless supply of adrenaline into his body. A second later, that same adrenaline managed to conjure up some ridiculous illusion that he could do anything he wanted, anything at all. He could easily hold the world in the palm of his hand, get rid of any illness, any threat, any malice, if only to make the euphoria last for one more second.

But after he regained his senses, all her emotions came pouring out. Those sick, twisted thoughts built up inside Suzaku's mind, the exact thoughts Euphie indulged herself with, so much so he wanted to throw up. He saw through her lusts, her obsessions, the way her pleasures were satisfied; he saw his beloved's descent to madness, like an asylum she happily danced into without hesitation. The field of flowers his dreams once depicted her so lovingly in, was now dried, with the blood stealing away all the nutrients of the soil, the curses building up within that desolate valley. He tried not to dwell on it, but when he closed his eyes, those selfish wishes came back, calling at him, clawing at his heart.

Perhaps that was the only time Euphie had ever talked with him. He'd become like her, she said, "a monster," before lapsing back to her own, doll-like existence.

After the fires, he found Euphie, outside of her Knightmare, with no protection, as she kept whispering her brother's name over and over and over again. Tears poured from her eyes, and the dirt smeared her face aggressively, casting away her once beautiful, brilliant hopes. Her fingers clutched the grasses, nails digging into the ground, while her eyes scanned the debris, as if searching for someone who was more than likely no longer there.

Her dress wasn't torn, and she suffered no injuries, but all the same, Suzaku knew she couldn't stay there. So he carried her into the Lancelot and told her to wait. To his surprise, she did nothing to stop his advances, and simply stared at nothing, like a corpse whose soul was taken. When he went back to look for her Knightmare, it disappeared, and at that moment, he asked himself if it had all been just one, terrible fantasy. Of course, no one answered him.

When they reached Horai Island, Suzaku interrogated her. He asked her about Arthur, about Lelouch, and even about C.C. He grilled her on the Courts, as well as the alliances she's made, and whether or not she had any enemies, all of which she maintained her silence.

It was impossible for Suzaku to see any of that rebellious spirit inside of her; it was if Guinevere had never appeared, that this whole mess was just one big act. All those conversations about duels, or even war, had vanished, never to return again.

It did occur to him that besides he and Lelouch, no one else knew she was alive. As far as the masses were concerned, she'd been executed by Britannian military, and her grave was probably lying somewhere, being spat upon by millions of people, both Japanese and Britannian alike. He oftentimes wondered what it'd be like, if they all could see her now, alive and well. Would they regret their actions? Would they apologize to her, the Massacre Princess, for all the trouble they've caused? Would they even see her in that old light?

The questions kept swarming around his thoughts, and it led Suzaku to feel insecure about his lady's safety. After all, the Zero Requiem was supposed to bring an era of peace, right? There originally wasn't supposed to be any room left for past wrongdoings, and it was highly unlikely Euphie would have a place in this world, at least for the time being. So they resumed their old relationship, as a lady and her knight.

At least, that was what he wanted.

Euphie must hate him now, and that could why she wasn't opening her mouth. But she had to know she wasn't a hostage either. Rather, she was treated like some long awaited guest that everyone kept missing, the master included. And it was by that logic, Euphie knew he wasn't going to tell Nunnally she was still alive, no matter how much of a threat she was, or even if she decided to ruin the whole plan by telling everyone the truth behind Lelouch's appraised death. Suzaku was just too attached.

And with her temporary refuge secure, Euphie fell into a somewhat comatose state, refusing to eat or drink anything. She sat there, hands folded, back straightened, muscles tense, as she stared out the garden windows, out at the oceans and the blue, blue skies. Her eyes were closed off, her pupils dilated, as she searched out there for something that resembled the life she had before. She kept searching, and it was only by her head's slight tilt did Suzaku know she was breathing.

Suzaku had thought about scouring the earth for Lelouch more than once. He's already found a multitude of ways of looking for the dead Emperor behind Nunnally's back; he's gotten everything figured out, all down to the tiniest detail. And he was so desperate for information he even got down on one knee, looked Euphie in the eyes, and pleaded that she tell him just what exactly had happened that night.

Euphie, however, never answered.

* * *

Nunnally vi Britannia sat at her desk, trying to hash out those troublesome political alliances, all the while keeping her eye on the newest maid, who was crying profoundly on the floor. The girl dropped Nunnally's cake on the floor, and while she did clean it up, she kept begging over and over for her "unimportant life." Whimsical pleas were spewing from her overly dramatized act; if it had not been for her kind heart, Nunnally might have fired her.

During the aftermath of that horrendous fire, the fire department, along with Zero, came to assets the situation. For some strange reason, the barrier that was there had been removed, and in a split second, the fire was quelled, with many of the onlookers rushing inside, attempting to salvage whatever they could. Though their efforts were in vain, Nunnally couldn't help but feel touched by their concerns, especially Kallen's, who struggled to let the Empress go.

As the teams shifted through the rubble, Nunnally never expected to find anything left. It was a destructive fire, engulfing the entirety of the palace. The columns have already collapsed, and the glorious buttresses that once supported the vast amount of weight was now devastated by a pressure that consisted of nothing but ash and smoke. There were corpses as well, those unlucky ones who couldn't make it out in time. A few pictures here and there, some jewelry, a piece of cloth every now and then. None of the portraits were saved, though Nunnally managed to save Lelouch's chessboard. That alone was enough to calm her.

There was no evidence that this was a deliberate attack; as far as Nunnally knew, Britannia no longer had any enemies, and for the few that did stand in her way, they were more than likely to have been cremated by the fire. Maybe they were endeavoring to set a trap for Nunnally, but they just got caught in their foolishness; besides which, it was the only explanation that made any sense. Why else would they attack the capital like that?

Names like Titania, Vivien, Arthur, didn't carry any special meaning anymore; she knew full well they'd all died. She had even yet to see their ashes, but she knew. She just _knew_ that they were destroyed. It was ironic; for the people who instigated such a horrendous scheme, they alone were swept up by it, and in the end, were eventually destroyed along with it. They, who ingrained themselves into the midst of their silly dreams, had faded, along with that innocence everyone must give in order to live on. In their case, it was the very innocence that caused them to perish.

A very poetic end, if anyone ever bothered asking Nunnally her opinion.

She never heard a word about the Courts, or Guinevere, or Alfheimr again. Over time, these concerns began weighing less and less at her heart. True, two days after the incident she demanded from Suzaku a response. Any truth would suffice, anything at all, as long as she could be reassured that at the very least, the predicament was behind them. He, as usual, granted her wishes, and even allowed her to take his hand to make sure he was giving her that truth. His pulse was slow and steady, and it gave her that much needed anchor.

But she was surprised at his indifference. He never asked her any further questions, never scrutinized her like he usually did when something went wrong. He never even looked at her, even as she pressed him, determined to find the cause of his depression. After that long while, he simply slipped his hand away from hers, and left on the Lancelot to go to Horai Island. She stood there, staring up at the skies, with no further knowledge to guide her. She would never forget how she felt that day.

Had she alienated him so thoroughly? Was he still her ally? Her friend?

Cornelia, or rather Ella, was doing just fine…though she was scarred by the loss of her child. Guilford was still in a coma, and since she was alone most of the time, Nunnally would often hear silent weeping echoing from the corridors. No one else noticed it, and that was what often broke Nunnally. She was simply too busy to help her older sister mentally, but whenever she did find the time, Ella would always giver her the same excuse. "Everything's fine Nunna," she would often say, as if the words were the only thing left holding her onto this life.

Ella could never be that brave general again, no matter how hard a bargain Nunnally drove with life.

So here she was, doing all the work her sister would have helped her do. Schniezel was still in Africa, aiding the relief efforts per Zero's orders, while Kaguya and Tianzi were busy trying to assuage their own fears, pondering on whether or not the UFN and the Chinese Federation should strengthen their alliance with Britannia. They've disregarded Nunnally's behavior, to the point they had nearly forgotten about it. They had more important things to talk about surely, such as the growing global economy, the rise in literacy rates, rebuilding infrastructure…

It seems as if this peaceful world had moved on without Nunnally.

She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. It'd already been six months since that fire, yet Nunnally still couldn't settle back into her old routine. She didn't have Suzaku anymore to tease, and she was so far behind she was afraid she would slow the UFN down. What's more, she now had a dozen orphan maids to take care of, and though all proved to be extremely useful, there were still tiny, irritating quirks that made Nunnally want to rip her hair out. One such quirk was already demonstrated in front of her.

She closed her eyes, and reopened them again, folding her arms across her tiny chest. "If you're that sorry about it, then learn from it," she said finally.

The tiny maid blinked. Normally, when the creature looked as vulnerable as this, Nunnally would feel that familiar pull on her heart, and in a few seconds, she might have started crying as well. However, the Empress was in no mood for sentimental moments. Especially not now.

So when the maid cocked her head, the crocodile tears immediately vanishing, Nunnally demanded she leave the room within the instant. She didn't care if she was labeled the 'Demon Empress' by the other maids; she was done putting up with this.

The maid did good to make sure she shut the door on her way out.

Nunnally resumed her work without further delay. She learned to forget the false promises Vivien told her, like how Euphie was alive, or how Suzaku was tied to Arthur. No matter how incriminating the accusations, she simply swept them away, away in that torrent of pleasantries and wishes. She knew it was cowardly, but it was the physical attributes that mattered. No one can see emotions; no one even cared for them.

So Nunnally decided to lock away her own emotions, and continued to play catch up for the remainder of the day.

* * *

She awoke to the sounds of a sharp alarm. At first, she tried to block it out, covering her ears with her warm, cozy sheets, but when that didn't work, she contented herself in yanking out the cord. Her arms stretched, and they stayed like that for a while, in that awkward position, before at last, she brought them back into the folds of her body. Her cheek rubbed along the pillow, happily taking in the soft, comfortable feelings associated with it.

Then her eyes shot open.

She grabbed the clock and thrust it aside, cursing herself for abusing it to begin with. She pushed away the blankets and managed to claw her way out of bed. She made a desperate grab for her cellphone, and stared at it. Fifty missed calls.

Kallen Kozuki was dead.

She smelled smoke in the air, but didn't pay any attention to it. Probably just another one of her mother's failed experiments. She hurriedly pulled on some rugged jeans, and strapped on a red bra. She pulled a a grey t-shirt over her head, then reached over to stuff last night's snacks into her mouth, courtesy of her mother. She stood, checked herself in the mirror, then rushed out the bedroom door, the excitement already replacing dread.

She grabbed her burnt toast and jammed it into her mouth, while frantically waving goodbye to Ms. Kozuki. She was sped out of the apartment, sweeping away any remaining debris in her red, spiky hair. A few neighbors turned to stare, though they all greeted her with their usual, adoring smiles.

Hastily, she punched in the numbers in her phone, praying that Tamaki would pick up. After a few rings, the idiot said, "Hello?"

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

"H-hey, easy now," he replied. "Where are you now?"

"About two minutes away from the library." Kallen gave a scalding glare toward a group of gangs, who responded by running away from their intended victim. She kept moving, skillfully weaving her way through the crowds and crowds of people nearby. "You _told_ me that you'd be in front of the apartment."

"Yeah well, bistro's a bit busy, so I guess you're just gonna have to deal with it."

"Shut up."

"Love you too."

Kallen had to resist the violent urge to reach into the phone and choke him. Well, he _did_ invite her to the grand opening after all, so he should at least have the _decency_ to give her some transportation. Why she accepted his request to drive her was still a mystery; she could have easily gone to the school, pick up her Guren, and ride to the grand opening within a second. She wouldn't have to become as panicked as this.

A friend, Rivalz, was opening up a new restaurant; no longer was he infatuated with idea about owning the "world's largest casino." Perhaps it was because he went to one of the red light districts in Tokyo, or maybe he was still shaken by the fact that Shirley practically beat him into submission after she heard about said plan. Maybe his parents found out and made him go to culinary school first. Either way, in an instant Rivalz changed his mind, and he never told Milly or Kallen why. But it was a lot more fun that way, and he didn't seem to be complaining about it.

Gino, however…

She caught that familiar old car, the beat up one with the ugly black paint peeling away. There Tamaki was, in the driver's seat with that stupid grin on his face, both hands on the wheels. He had his usual, spotless apron on, with blue sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His long, auburn hair was neatly combed back, a phenomenon Kallen never thought she'd live to see, and his cleanly shaven face was enough to turn a few female heads to his direction. When she was only a mere inches away, she pried the door open to get a better look.

Her body plopped in the seat, slamming the door beside her after a while, and the two sped off. The pilot nearly forgot about her rage, until he started smirking. "So…you gonna show up to the celebration like that?"

Kallen slid her eyes idly to the chef. "What are you talking about?"

"You've got no shoes on."

She shrugged her shoulders. "You're just gonna have to live with it then."

Tamaki whistled. "Wow, you've really let yourself go, haven't you?"

"Shut up."

"But you're at TU now, right? Full-ride and everything? Could at least put some make-up on."

"Just keep driving," she said exasperatedly, as she pulled up both her legs against her torso and laid her cheek on her knee. She stared outside the car window, at the busy market streets that were already passing them by, lazily observing the variety of customers, who by now were supposedly complementing Japan's exotic beauty.

For a while, Tamaki obeyed her request, but of course, he was never one to keep his mouth shut. "So…what're you studying?"

"International Relations."

He smiled softly. "Still going strong with the Black Knights, huh?"

"That…and the Empress might need something." Kallen remembered how fragile the tiny girl was when the capital burned down. She was a terrified, vulnerable thing; it was no wonder the doubts kept swirling in her head, as she tried determining whether or not Nunnally needed help, even with Zero at her side. However, when Tamaki began laughing, she answered him with a hard punch to the shoulder. He yelped at the sudden pain. "What?" she demanded.

"You digging this Zero?"

She scoffed. "Screw you."

The joke was still inappropriate, but Tamaki had been telling it for so long it no longer bothered her. True, her heart did still hurt a bit, but alas, that was the price she had to pay for her future. She was used to the emotion by now, and because of that, she could put up with any of Tamaki's lame jokes. She was even fine with him laughing all the way to the restaurant.

Almost.

She yawned loudly and stretched her arms. "I'm gonna take a little nap. Let me know when we get there."

"You didn't deny it."

The car swerved a bit when Kallen broke Tamaki's jaw.

* * *

Author's Note;

This is the sequel to 'Tales of the Seelie Courts.'


	3. Chapter 3

Suzaku sat near the windows of the hotel, cheek resting on one hand, as he examined the reports for the restructuring of the ghettos near Ile de la Cite. Salaries grazed his mind with their greedy presence, along with the unnecessary comments on how the project could be improved, as well as occasional remarks on how poor a job Zero was doing (all of which were untrue). The renewal was already halfway done; he only had to stay here a few days more before he could finally go back to Euphie.

Many small businesses were returning to the rivers. The increase in revenues brought a higher standard of living, and as a result, many of the residents, both rich and poor, were benefiting from the ventures. Even now, if Suzaku squinted his eyes, he could make out the individuals who, one by one, were abandoning their old prejudices, all for the sake of profit. Though the motives weren't pure, at the very least, it enticed different ethnicities to get along with one another. And with the pressure of the growing amiability between the EU and the Middle East, it was urgent that both Britannia and Paris build up that well-sought multicultural atmosphere;

But the different languages were starting to become a known nuisance. He's had to bring a plethora of translators with him, Schniezel included, simply because he didn't know how to speak French, or Italian, or Polish. The ruckus he's made with his naiveté has already proved quite humiliating. More than once he got himself into trouble with the local immigration offices (they thought he was impersonating Zero), and he's lost count of how many times people have laughed him off the streets.

Yet he felt the effort was worth it. It hadn't been too long since Paris had regained control of its so-called "heart." The Ile de la Cite was once called the "Center of France" ever since archaic times, because of its religious cores, beautiful architecture, and stunning landscapes. A lot of tourists drop by just to catch a glimpse of the now crystal waters. The channels were beginning to grow livelier by the day, and by now, it seemed all wrongdoings were forgotten. Of course, the government knew it still needed to set aside compensation for the local Japanese, along with formerly apologizing to all the migrants it blocked out.

Suzaku had remembered Nunnally expressing her fears about the region, and more than once had hinted that he should take a look at the efforts at rebuilding. She was actually planning on visiting France herself next week, but since she was already so busy trying to calm Pendragon down, he's had to take over a majority of her foreign duties. He's barely had any time to concentrate on his own humanitarian efforts, and in all honesty, if it weren't for Kallen or Oghi, by now he would've drowned in all this paperwork.

From where he sat, he could catch a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, whose grand steel provided a glorious gleam to fit Paris's now vibrant air. Lights reflected back at him, absorbing the warmth and the glows, then casting it away into a river of particles. The ruins of Notre Dame lingered near, and he couldn't help but admire them; the Gothic cathedral, he heard, will begin renovations later tomorrow, and he was to go see to their efforts, and provide the funds necessary to complete the project. According to Nunnally, it was to be a "symbol of world peace and prosperity."

Well, she was always a bit of a dreamer.

He placed the documents at the edge of the table. He only had to look up to see Schniezel standing beside him, who waited patiently for Suzaku's orders. That haunting red glow still made the newfound fairy shudder, but it was that glow that helped both his and Nunnally's efforts. Without that handicap, he was sure the prince would do everything he could to take back the throne. The blond-haired man caught Suzaku's stare, and returned it with with attentive loyalty. "Master Zero, you finished with those?"

It took Suzaku a while to regain himself. His pupils went back to the whiteness of the papers, before picking them back up and thrusting them to Schniezel. "I am. Is there anything else I'm to do today?"

"No sir."

"Good." Suzaku stood and grabbed the Zero mask. "I'm going out then."

"Do you wish for me to accompany you?"

"No. That will be all today. Go rest." Suzaku waited until the man left, his footsteps fading with each second. The sun was setting, and the evening skies grew darker and darker, until finally, he could catch the faint glimmer of the stars ahead. The street lights lit, and the tiny shadows of tourists started to form, some alone, others with friends or family. Suzaku sighed, and tucked the Zero mask underneath his arm.

Some friend.

By now, Lelouch would have turned up somehow, but alas, no such luck. It was surprising really, considering how much time Suzaku invested into finding the wayward immortal. Then of course, he was always awfully good in hiding, especially if he didn't _want_ to be found. But based on Euphie's devastating depression, that couldn't have been the case. He never was one to stomach the pain of his little sister crying.

And the fire was just too violent for Lelouch; it lacked the flare he would possess in such predicaments, so more than likely this was a kidnapping. But that doesn't explain why Euphie won't say anything. She knew that she could trust Suzaku, right? It wasn't like he was going to tell anyone anything.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Probably because he was too incompetent was why she wouldn't tell him anything. She beat him down with a Knightmare, and destroyed his credibility when they were still in the Courts.

Even more humiliating was the fact that he didn't even know where he was supposed to begin. Suzaku didn't know Arthur personally, nor was Suzaku one for strategy. The only progress he's made so far was the confidence that the Courts wouldn't just welcome the old regime back, notably because they loved Euphie, and that eliminated a potential hiding place. But Euphie herself said that they weren't looking for her, that they were just "too happy living without their tyrant of a queen." And he's already tried going back into that land, but for some reason, Kanime Island refused to heed his request. His best friend's face would appear in his mind, and repeatedly Suzaku would call out his name, but that didn't work either. Something would always just force him back out whenever he tried searching. At first, it did seem suspicious, but days later, he would recall how easily it was for Euphie to barricade the doors. Yes, he figured, that magic must still be there, and if not even Suzaku could break through the barrier, Lelouch wouldn't have much of a chance either. And soon, he had no choice but to give into other possibilities.

Suzaku wasn't sure if Lelouch was even a mile toward civilization. He could remember that peace offering Arthur had given him, a compromise that was so disturbing he felt sorry for the poor sap. All Arthur wanted was his Mordred, nothing more. He would happily drop off the face of the earth, and never bother anyone again, as long as he had Mordred. From his obsession, Suzaku recognized the words to be all very true; it was that same mood that made his father go mad with vanity.

"Come on Lelouch," he pleaded softly. "Everyone's worried about you. Me, Euphie…" His voice trailed off, replaced by an empty chuckle. So he was reduced to this, talking to himself like some crazy person.

But it made him feel better.

"I wonder if you're off somewhere, having a grand old time, without a care in the world. Do you like Euphie crying for you? Is C.C there?"

The silence persisted for a bit. Suzaku felt himself sinking back into his chair, his reflection gazing back him. "Are you…even alive? Are you like Euphie now?"

He wrung his fingers in his lap, and look down, staring at the blank, wooden floors. "You know, Euphie once told me she wanted to go to a yukata festival," he said while laughing. "You should've seen her. She was going on and on about kimonos and yukatas; she was going to make one herself too, with pink and ribbons and flowers all over… I don't know. I guess I've been talking about that kind of stuff for so long that she kind of fantasized about it in that cute way of hers…"

This was pathetic. Since when had he become so weak? If he was going to act like this, of course Lelouch was, by no means, going to answer him. He _did,_ after all, expect Suzaku to hold to that iron strength he left behind so long ago. He expected him to remain Zero for the remainder of his life, and even if that meant giving up his own happiness, Suzaku was determined to keep his identity as Zero a secret. He was stubborn, and he wouldn't listen to his own emotions, ones he slew so long ago. He was going to give it his all, in order to ensure that the world would remain a peaceful place.

But he hadn't planned on Lelouch…or Euphie, for that matter…on still being alive.

The old longing returned to him in full vengeance, that hunger for stability, that desire for something more than just world peace. He wanted to hold onto something warm like he did long ago. He wanted to beat someone up then get a good laugh out of it. He wanted to be carefree; he wanted to be immature, to be so very childlike, to make up for the childhood he mistakenly threw away. He wanted to go back to those simpler times, to when Euphie was still Euphie, and when Lelouch could still be persuaded.

All in all, he wanted to be selfish.

But that wasn't possible. Choices were made, lives were lost, corpses thrown away. Innocence mixed with fire, and what resulted was a broken battlefield with banners scattered everywhere, Flags have lost their importance, and patriotic sayings have long since vanished within the times of the wind. Weapons were left behind, without a home, without a country to fight for. Victims of their own purging, almost.

He rubbed his eyes, and stared out at the darkness. Was he even supposed to be doing this? Wouldn't it be better for everyone else…if Lelouch had stayed missing, or dead, in his case? Unlike Euphie, who had already been cleared from her charge, he would forever remain the Demon Emperor. He would always be wrongly accused for the nature he never did have, and he would be dramatized as a psychotic mass murderer, as a terrorist with no purpose. Unlike Euphie, Lelouch vi Britannia no longer had a place in the world.

He stood up once again, and took one last look at the glass. He bit his lip, reluctant on leaving that beautiful, depressing sight.

* * *

Everyone clapped loudly when Rivalz unlocked the doors; even if Kallen refrained from adding to the noise, she was perhaps the most enthusiastic of them all. Her wide smile managed to stretch across her face, her eyes brightly taking in the excitement, all the while feeding her already high spirits. Even with Tamaki growling at her, grumbling through all the blood, she couldn't help but hug him, her cold exterior melting away. She, along with everyone else, cheered on for her friend's success. Gino wasn't there, though Milly did say he sends his best regards, while brushing away the fact he was still sulking from his failed business plan.

"But," she added, "he is going to TU, just like _you_ Kallen!"

Kallen flickered her eyes at the dazzling reporter. In just under a year, the blonde clawed her way through a numerous amount of international networks, to the point where there almost wasn't a channel that hadn't heard of Milly Ashford. She was everywhere, from soap operas, to car commercials, to tabloid articles; she was even featured on Japan's newest magazine, _Sexiest Women of all Time,_ which was worth mentioning, since both guys and girls were after her affections. She had so many accomplishments already, Kallen couldn't help but feel a bit timid around her.

The feeling did go away when she mentioned Gino.

Kallen folded her arms and sent a sly mirk to the former president's direction. "Oh? What'll he by studying?"

"I don't know. Always was pretty unpredictable, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess. How's Shirley doing, by the way?"

"Excellent." Milly answered. "She's rocking England. Her first debut is in a month. I got the week off to go see the fashion show. Wanna come?"

"Can't; I've got classes. But tell her I said hi, okay?"

Milly stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. She put her hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. "You work too hard."

The pilot laughed then, pushing Milly away with one hand when the blonde strayed too close. The atmosphere was warm, considerate, with the heat of the group claiming whatever cool indifference she had left in that old prejudice of hers. It was one of those moments when she realized that the day would end all too soon, that she will be going back, leaving Rivalz to fend for himself. But she shoved the sadness aside, and beamed. "Not everyone's like you Milly. We can't get high just off of life, you know?"

"Never know till you try, right?" With one swipe, Milly took Kallen's wrists hostage, and the two rushed toward the guest of honor himself, who was blushing with pride. She steadied the red-head, then strutted away, like a model on the runway, her next victim in sight. Kallen pitied for the man, but turned to meet Rivalz's embarrassed gaze. "What?" she asked.

"I guess the Prez'll be staying like that for a while, huh?"

"Not that it's bad." She hugged her sides and took one, long look at the restaurant. The white, polished tables were already set, scattered everywhere in a pattern only the owner could recognize. The wallpaper was a bright mahogany, with tiny, orange sakura petals blowing everywhere. Along with the bright, wooden floorboards, and with the angle of the sun, it made the entire place look like it was bathed in fire. There was a small staircase in the middle, which descended into the underground. Unlike the first floor, the underground floors were painted with cool colors, though the green on the tapestries hanging from the balconies made the transition all the more smooth. One lantern was placed on each table, and a small candle decorated the front desk.

From what Kallen heard, he already has a list of potential employees, all of whom were lined up and ready to serve. The place has garnered enough attention too, and so far, it appears that everything was going well. In about three years, Rivalz will pay back the mortgage and the loan, and he'll finally start making money. Shirley even promised to visit the place when she graduated.

Rivalz shrugged. "That's what makes the Prez the Prez. She helps us relax."

"Hey, you ever wonder what her orientation is?"

Rivalz stared at her for a moment, confusion filling his face, before he made an "Oh" with his mouth. "That's right, you weren't there. Well, she did have a thing for Lelouch once-"

"…She did?"

He chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, but that's all over now. Rumor has it she's been setting her sights on some other fool."

Kallen's lips parted slightly. "And…you're okay with that?"

"I'm um…still trying to get used to it. But it's not like we're in high school anymore. We've all got our own lives now; can't just wait around forever, right?"

He laid there, not knowing where he was, where he was going, where he'd been returning from.

* * *

Cold sweat dripped from his body, and the humidity scorched him with something suffocating, something hellish. His arms were bound, broken and bent the wrong ways, and the searing pain scorching his legs was slowly returning, never once bothering leave them behind. The red in his vision ebbed to and fro, coming and going as it very well pleased, while the bruises on his skin marked an ugly mix of red and purple and blue. The throbbing in his head just doesn't want to go away, and it made it all the harder to concentrate. His mouth was wrapped tightly in a seal, while his throat had been constricted with a very heavy chain.

The darkness swallowed him whole. He felt like he was drowning, so much so his body began jerking wildly, endeavoring to find a way out, to do whatever it took to escape this nightmare, no matter how vain it was. He just had to escape. He didn't _want_ to be here anymore. He couldn't stand the torture. He couldn't stand the pain; he couldn't.

But why was he here to begin with? What emotion could have possibly brought him here, into this sickening hell, where that person seemed to always everywhere, seeking out his vulnerabilities, whatever they were? The very least he remembered was how that former heart of his reaching out to the tormentor…was it broken? Did he fell sorry for the creature? No; pity was just too simple a thought for someone as cruel as this.

Or maybe it was just a lie, a ruse to get him to drop his guard. Maybe there was something more to the story…other than him lying here, waiting for the creature to return. What had he been doing, before all of this, before any of this? Did he have loved ones? Was someone waiting for him to return? Was someone out looking for him? Did anyone even know where he was? These were the questions that kept piercing his thoughts, as he stared blankly at the golden floor. He was so absorbed in that world he never even noticed the creature entering his room, a burning smile on its face.

The creature crouched down and grabbed the boy's hair. He never made a sound, and only when the familiar sting upon his wrists was he able to concentrate on that sudden, painless sensation. Immediately, everything that hurt, everything that made his world hell, simply vanished, replaced by a field of white and black. The throbbing vanished, and at that instant, he lay there helpless and ignorant, unable to move, unable to comprehend the creature that smiled upon him. He drifted off in that deep, blissful slumber, allowing the captor to do what it wished.


	4. Chapter 4

It happened all so very fast.

They were celebrating the anniversary of Lelouch's death, and the advent of the new Empire. Almost the whole world was invited to attend, and many had made good on that invitation. He remembered the glittering gracefulness of the Chinese Federation, and the many, many banners signifying the growing amount of countries joining the UFN. He remembered the abundance of food there, as the colorful tables started to attract more and more attention. He remembered Tianzi and Kaguya up in their thrones, and Schniezel standing there, carefully watching the guests with his cool, indifferent eyes. He remembered the conversation he was in, the debate that had ensued after someone questioned his policies as the Prime Minister. He remembered someone complimenting Villetta, and how great it must be for a strong woman like that to be behind him.

Zero was there too, along with Lady Florence, Todoh, Kallen, who had just gotten back from classes… the higher officials were sitting at the banquet tables, drowning themselves in food and drinks. Xing-ke was sober as always, careful not to indulge himself as the rest of the men were. That man, Lloyd Asplund, was examining a girl's blush, mesmerized by the amount of blood that could fit into one tiny face. Villetta was already threatening someone, a slight flush on her cheeks, and Todoh sat there unsmiling, as he observed the hazy behavior that went on around him. There was a lot of bragging going on about the flourishing trade routes and new businesses; there were so many schools opening, so many organizations budding, that the amateur governments could barely keep track of it all.

The Empress was announcing her arrival, and everyone stood at attention, ready to clap for the returning girl. Oghi was with them, in that content mob, a genuine smile settling on his lips.

Oghi recalled Empress Nunnally inquiring about Kallen, and how happy she was when she realized the redhead was going to be there to accompany Zero; for some reason, the Empress always liked Kallen's temper, and no matter how much Oghi tried dissuading her from provoking that rage, she would always completely disregard his warning. He remembered her stepping through the door, that same, elegant pink dress adorning her body. She was opening her mouth to say something.

Then she crumpled to the floor.

The Empress had been shot.

There was panic. There was screaming. There was running. Many of the guests had endeavored to rush out of the doors, only to be blocked by the very same soldiers who guarded them. They yanked Nunnally by the hair, and threw her to the ground, her so very fragile body landing in Todoh's arms. They rounded all of the guests up and pointed their guns, like lambs for the slaughter. There was practically no struggle, no effort to stop the soldiers; they all obeyed without another word. The soldiers had at last gathered everyone, and screamed, "Stop or we'll shoot to kill!"

Stop or we'll shoot to kill.

The shock wore off after a while. Oghi only had to look up to see the once enthusiastic drunks squirming, as they demanded that they be released, while spitting out the ugly fact that if something had happened to them, they wouldn't mind declaring war. Villetta was nearest to him, glaring at the soldiers, while the Empress was being treated, trying to compromise with them, using her own natural charisma to woo them into giving up.

No such luck.

Oghi bit his lip. His legs shook, his nerves already giving out. At last, he grabbed Villetta's hand, stared pointedly at the guards, and asked, "Why are you doing this?"

None of the guards answered, probably because they didn't know such a timid man would find his voice so quickly.

Finally, one of them stepped forward, a small smile playing with his lips. One hand held the gun, the other on the sword strapped to his belt. His entire face was covered with that black helmet, but Oghi could very well make out the cruel gleam in his eyes. "Where is she?" the man asked.

No answer.

The man sighed, so he pointed his gun toward Oghi, and shot.

The bullet only grazed his cheek, but instinctively the Prime Minister hissed at the pain. He grabbed the wound and pressed it, hoping to stop the bleeding. Villetta angrily turned to the soldier. "What the _hell_ do you want?" she screamed.

"Shut it." He whispered idly, swiveling the barrel of the gun directly at her right eye. She didn't flinch, and returned his gaze with her more demonic glare, one that could submit the majority of her victims to submission. He, however, was unfazed by her little outburst, and went back to the question. "Where is she?" he repeated.

"Who?" Villetta demanded.

The man sighed, then lowered his gun. Carefully, he removed his helmet, and threw it aside. There was nothing special about him, nothing at all. But the black in his eyes reminded Oghi of a monster, one that hid behind the closet or under the bed, just waiting for its prey to come creeping by. When Oghi scrutinized him a bit more, his eyes widened; he was Japanese. "We are here on orders from his Highness. If you refuse to cooperate, we will not hesitate to kill every single person in this room. Don't act like you don't know who I'm talking about."

"His Highness." was all Zero whispered from the crowds.

No one save for the Black Knights heard him, and though Oghi was no longer a member, he clung to Zero's every word. He treated the man as his equal, he knew his actions better than anyone else, or at least, that was what he wanted to believe. Oghi didn't want to admit it, but he still revered the man, to the point where he would follow him into battle, without any hesitation, without any doubt that they would win in the end.

So he closed his eyes, and shielded Villetta with his body, who was by now ready to kill the soldiers surrounding her. His firm hands gripped her shoulders, no longer caring about the pain. "Don't do anything," he whispered in her ear. After a few more moments, she relaxed, and begrudgingly backed down from the potential massacre.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught Nunnally sitting up, and winced when she held her sides, the blood slowly absorbing the colors of her beautiful dress. Zero slowly stood, with that same regal atmosphere which was now adorning the air. His shoulders were broad, and there was a certain defiance to his stance that many of the worried murmurs among the officials were now quieted. "Who exactly are you looking for?"

His voice rang clearly, and the confidence of the crowds returned. He took control of the room in an instant, and even when he went by to the Empress's side, it was clear that Zero was the one who would protect them all. Kallen and Todoh readied themselves, watching their master's every move.

The soldier huffed, and shifted his weight from on leg to the other. "Lover to his Majesty Pendragon, and the traitor to the Courts."

What…utter nonsense! What an insignificant request! What gave this man the _idea_ that they knew how to solve some marital issue? What could possibly be going through his _Majesty's_ head that he had to take the world's leaders _hostage_ and demand where someone _woman_ was? Did he ever hear of a marriage counselor?

What's more…what _his Majesty?_ There were no records that, aside from Britannia and the Chinese Federation, any country ran under the rule of a monarch. If anything, the wayward country that did was so small and unimportant it managed to evade detection after all this time. This was probably the largest army that country ever had. Oghi gritted his teeth, his hands shaking in anger.

Zero must have felt the same way, because he folded his arms across his chest, radiating in seething rage. "I won't lie to you; none of us know who that is." His arm appeared from beneath his cape, and pointed his pistol at the soldier. "I don't care if you are Japanese. Turn back now, or _I'll_ shoot to kill."

Oghi stopped trembling then, and looked up at Zero's unreadable mask. Everyone did, in fact, mouths agape, eyes wide with horror. The Zero they knew, the one who advocated for peace and justice, the one who rebelled against tyranny and would do anything to save everyone, even at the cost of his own life, was now aiming his gun at a group of underlings, not in any way concerned by the absolute ultimatum. Even the most stubborn of the officials were all still searching for a compromise.

Yet at the same time, all were clinging to this man for help. Nunnally remained calm; it was like she even expected that this was going to happen. She maintained her dignity, and placed her tiny hands on her lap, those darkened, amethyst eyes patiently waiting for any weakness the soldiers gave off.

And then they showed it.

All the soldiers stared at Zero, then turned to one another. They suddenly laughed vainly, swinging their guns around like toys, joking on and on about how far the Black Knights have fallen, and how much time this Zero must have spent in a mental asylum. After the roar calmed down, the Japanese soldier sauntered forward, his eyes trained directly at Zero. "My, I've heard you were quite fond of the theatrics, but I never thought you'd be a comedian. Really, what a pleasant surprise."

Then gun came away from Villetta to Zero. "Well now, my funny young friend. If you could just tell me where that woman is, we'll be on our way-"

The man was cut off.

His throat was slit.

Oghi turned wildly at the remaining soldiers, all of whom were still in shock at their leader's death. He saw the flashing black and purple, and with each step, more and more of the men fell dead. He heard footsteps frantically running about, with screams desperately rushing to the entrance. He didn't remember how much time had passed since then, other than the very feeling of Villetta's hands pushing him along the crowd's torrential flow, attempting to get him to escape.

Then he stopped, just outside of the Lady Tianzi's castle.

An army of Black Knightmares stood there, waiting for them.

* * *

Suzaku cursed, his eyes scanning everywhere within the enormous army of black Knightmares standing before him. He was racing through the sea of bodies, with Todoh already lost in the crowds, and Kallen following dutifully behind, as they made their way to the underground hangers of the Forbidden City. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, the model the Knightmares were designed in was the same model Lelouch had. They were all strange in the same way, that tight, small frame, with swords along the sheath of its back. The energy wings would probably be used as swords too, and they would all be able to hold their own against the Guren.

The Lancelot Albion was going to be easy prey for them.

However, he could tell that humans were the ones controlling those Knightmares, and they haven't had the same training as Suzaku had. They weren't proficient at piloting any of these machines, much less fighting with them. And they were confident, cocky, to the point where they had allowed a majority of the hostages to slip through their fingers.

Also, he was Euphie's lover. Her insanity flowed through his veins.

The white Knightmare stood there, in all its pathetic majesty. Suzaku rushed toward the armor, digging his key out of his pocket; moments later, he was in the cockpit, the Zero mask cast away behind the chair. The screen was brightly lit, and his eyes were already tuned to the army hovering outside the Chinese Federation. There were about thirty outside the gates, and almost seventy-two near the ports. There were many more closing in from behind; from this angle, it looked like the hostage were cornered.

That familiar static sounded from the side, and his eyes flickered down. "Q1."

"Zero!" Kallen shouted. "It's these guys again!" The worry in her voice was distinguishable, but that was expected; she'd lost to a soldier who was driving the same kind of Knightmare frame. She had no idea who it was that beat her either.

That made victory all the more satisfying. "Prototypes mostly," Suzaku encouraged, and already, she was beginning to calm down. All the Knightmares were beginning to rise, but at that point, Suzaku managed to get an aerial view of how many laid before them. Yes, this will do. "I doubt that soldier is among them. If he is, show no mercy."

"Yes sir."

Suzaku enlarged the screen, which showed Nunnally and the others down there, the hopeless light in their eyes, as they huddled next to one another. The stench of Death was rampant through their senses, and it looked like they had nowhere to run; the stockyards had begun claiming their pride. He examined each of their faces, before chuckling. "Defeat every single one in one blow."

"What?"

"Use the enhanced chaos mine to finish them off," he clarified. "Aim it directly above the civilians so none of the hostages get hit."

"U-understood…"

The hesitation was more than obvious in her voice, and Suzaku knew how she felt; this world, after all, was supposed to be filled with peace and prosperity, right? There was supposed to be no such thing as killing, or murder, or anything ugly like that. Though she'd long been on the battlefield, Suzaku could easily tell that she herself was unfamiliar with the concept; she really was innocent. So he relented. "Wait."

"Huh?"

"Save a few. Let them retreat, then follow I'll follow them."

"Y-yes." There, satisfied. "I'll guard you from the rear-"

"No. I need you to get all the hostages out of here."

"Understood." And with that, Kallen received her orders.

The chaos mine was beautiful that day. Beautiful in that chaotic, psychotic light, so much so he couldn't help but feel the exhilaration mix with adrenaline. His frustrations were already built up so much, all because of Lelouch's refusal to be found, and Euphie's rejection to even cooperate with his efforts was all the more provoking. The world was moving as it should, so ignorant of everything, of all the lies it's been told; he wasn't surprised that this reality couldn't even tell the difference between fiction and truth.

It was that innocence he wanted to rob. He wanted the world to remember what had happened, what the Demon Emperor had to them through. He _needed_ that. He was so tired of all of this he was ready to throw up.

When the scorching judgement fires of the chaos mine faded, the Lancelot immediately began trailing them, the cloaking device working better than it should. The Guren was nowhere in sight disappeared under the cloud of smoke to assist the hostages, swept away along the fray. The dead corpses were surrounding the entirety of the Chinese Federation, and along the fires of the night, fires whose black tendrils swirled up into the evening skies, Suzaku sat there, laughing throughout the night.

Arthur's pitiful mental state came rushing back to him then.


	5. Chapter 5

Kallen kept careful watch as the hostages that were escorted out of the premises. Most of the Black Knights were already there, assessing the damage, trying to calm everyone down. A few of those capricious guardsmen were endeavoring to determine exactly what had just happened, concocting far-fetched reports of traitors and terrorists, all the while shifting through the already unreliable facts. It'd already been agreed on that this _wasn't_ a random attack, so surely, the hostages carried some value.

However, the captors treated everyone here as if the hostages had meant nothing. It was as if there was nothing to be gained simply by showing off to the world that they'd managed to disrupt the peace, that the hostages could be ransomed away with just one photo. They didn't care about any of that.

And now Zero's gone off again.

The Guren's key was wrapped tightly around her neck, weighing her down with its abundantly abnormal pressure. Her brain was pushing from above, suffocating her with reason, as she contemplated on the events that'd just occurred. She knew Zero was a great man, and normally, she had a lot of faith in him, but she couldn't help but question his motives this time. Generally, for an ambush, he'd send out a full on assault team, with him playing the scapegoat, to follow the enemy. He would have her by his side at all times, reminding her all the crucial points of the mission, making sure she wasn't seen. She'll even admit that, at times, he can be reckless.

But he would never do something this crazy. He would never go off alone like that, nor would he tell her to use the chaos mines, not without a good reason. He wasn't sounding like himself either.

She felt a tiny blob hit her back. She turned, only to find Nunnally looking up at her with those curious eyes. "Kallen?" the Empress asked in a surprisingly small voice. The dignified position she took in aiding the rescue efforts had now broken down, leaving an innocent girl in its wake. "Where's Zero now?"

Kallen couldn't answer.

She turned around and put both hands on Nunnally's shoulders. She crouched down to Nunnally's eye length, and gave her a warm smile. "I'll go to him right now. I'll punch him for you."

Nunnally nodded firmly. "In the gut."

It was a strange thing to tell to the Empress, that Kallen would assault her commander just to appease her concerns. However, ever since the day they met, Kallen had always felt relaxed around the girl. She was free to talk about whatever she wanted, without fear of prejudice or being tried, and she always had a good laugh out of it. The conversations would drag on for hours and hours, and gradually, Kallen was attached, not only because she was Lelouch's sister. Of course, the two did have their share of arguments, but it was that freedom Kallen always relished in. After all, who else could sass a royal and get away with it?

Zero's coordinates were easy to track, mainly because she was one of the few officers that had access to his Knightmare system. She never did understand why he chose to pilot the Lancelot Albion, and whenever she did ask him, he always gave vague answers. The only straightforward one she ever got from him was when he, along with the rest of the officers, were standing on over the crowds, proclaiming their spoils for everyone to share. The Knightmare was just another one of the spoils.

She climbed back into the Guren and twisted the keys. The screen came on, and with it, Todoh's voice. "Kozuki, what are you doing?" he asked in that calm way of his.

"I'm tracking Zero's location. Stay with everyone until we return."

She heard him grunt. He was also loyal to the new Zero, so loyal, in fact, that he was incredibly militant on following orders, unless given a compelling reason to let rebel do whatever they please. "Fine then." he said curtly. "Though Zero is strong, he won't last long if he's without his Ace."

She beamed at the radio. Todoh will stay with the hostages then, making sure that they, at the very least, make it out okay, while Kallen pursues Zero. The screen was already marking his location.

The Guren rose into the night skies, with Kallen gazing down at the increasingly small lights. She took a deep breath, and pushed the Guren forward. It didn't matter if he punished her for insubordination, or if he confiscated her position as the Captain of the Zero Squad; if he really was dead, there wouldn't have been a concept called "world peace" to begin with.

* * *

Euphemia wandered the hallways of Horai Island, browsing the various rooms in their entirety. Their sophistication was admirable and surprising, considering how she never took Suzaku as the cleanest person around. Of course, Lulu was the one who established the base, and since Suzaku basically inherited the fortress, the least he could do was keep it clean. For once, she was glad she was captured by Suzaku. She had no idea what she would do after that incident.

As she walked through the corridors, the steel's moonlit glare captivating her own bright eyes, she sighed. She was wearing that white dress, as always, and her hair was down. She didn't feel like brushing it today, perhaps she was just so tired from everything. Her skin was growing a bit paler, probably because she wasn't walking in the gardens like Sayako suggested that she do. Oh well. Too late now.

The pattern became monotone, and she was careful not to deviate from it. The last mistake costed her an entire kingdom, along with her two fools, and her pride.

The fires proved more disastrous than she thought they'd be, and for the first time, she felt that horrible, miserable realization of underestimating someone. While she, Lulu, and C.C had been busy trying to recover Arthur from this world, he was migrating between the Courts and Britannia. She's already stolen his magic at the time, and in order for him to reclaim a tenth of his powers, he's had to steal someone else's magic.

Who else better than Lady Vivian?

He played the part of an innocent pup, then murdered her before she could realize what was happening. He cut off the Gates, and seeped those protective enchantments back into Avalon, causing her own army's Knightmares to breakdown. They had no way of escaping, so they were easy prey for Arthur.

When morning came, and Suzaku gone, Euphemia tried everything she could to get in touch with C.C. She knew full well Lulu had been stolen, and since C.C wasn't a target, Euphemia was hoping beyond hope she could at least get some idea of where her Knightmare could be. She didn't.

Over and over again, she tried. She used the windows, the floor tiles, the mirrors in the bathrooms, anything at all that gave her a reflection. But the witch never answered.

C.C was missing from the battlefield.

She's tried going back to the Courts as well. She knew she had no access to Kanime Island, but she could use some other objects to get there. It wasn't that hard. Just think of the place or person you want to go to, push on the surface, then you're there. But it wasn't as simple as that anymore. She's removed a countless number of Arthur's curses, and many times over she's navigated her way through an amnesiac maze, yet she could never get through.

So here the former Evil Queen was, just walking around, thinking particularly of nothing. She wasn't planning on staying on Horai Island forever, unless of course, Suzaku had other plans. Even Euphemia had to admit that as of now, she was completely at his mercy. She couldn't do anything without his permission, and even when she moved from room to room, Sayako was always there, recording her actions, making sure she never tried anything.

Her beloved raper was nowhere to be found. She left it there, in the Knightmare, just as Suzaku was taking her away. She scoffed at the notion, however. It was more than likely that the raper now was in Arthur's hands, as was the Courts military technology.

Oh, how she wished she could fight with that bloodstained sword again, how she wished she could feel that adrenaline flow through her fragile veins when someone challenged her, physically or verbally. She wanted it all back. She needed it all back. And in a way, Suzaku did grant her wish.

He did bring some details of those long forgotten memories back to her.

A long time ago, Arthur had told her that in order to become a fairy, an immortal, she needed to force something from her body into the other person's body. It could be anything; saliva, blood, organs, anything at all. Since he's raped her so many times, it was how she became the way she was. And to relieve herself from that suffering, she's clung to dreams, dreams of when it was just her and Suzaku, not just as lady and knight, or even as friends, but as lovers.

They were sweet dreams, innocent delusions that couldn't have possibly harmed her; why would they need to? As long as that creature's insanity never touched Suzaku, she was fine; there was no chance at all her fairytale could be ruined.

So when he told her he'd become immortal, that desire shattered into a million, tiny pieces.

Euphemia could never bring herself to hate Suzaku, or the creature he'd now become. But she just couldn't accept the fact that she screwed up, and someone else was paying the price. She'd just regained her own sanity, and now she passed on that madness to her lover…

The guilt was crushing.

She's distanced herself from Suzaku; she didn't want to see him transform into the very person she had become. She wanted him to remain pure. She wanted him to see the world in a different light, apart from the black and the red. She wanted him to know the world, the good and the bad, and everything in between, the shades of grey.

But that can never be.

How many lives were lost that night? How many hopes were dashed aside, from the moment Arthur planned his assault, to the very last breath of that one, seemingly insignificant soldier? How cruel she was then, to not even take into account the armies she was responsible for. How careless her acts were, to allow her _brother_ onto the front lines, knowing that Arthur was obsessed with him. How idiotic she was, when she just sat there, doing nothing, while the rest of the Courts fall to his hands. She had no home to go back to. She had no family to come for, and the lover she spent so much time with, the beloved she adored so much…he was descending down that dark, bottomless chasm, the very same way she had.

It was more than she could take.

Still, it was always Euphemia's philosophy that something good had to come out of something bad. Though it was one of the many ways to cope with reality, she clung to it viciously, holding onto every saying. And it was true too; she found out later that Arthur had killed Titania. The former fairy queen was probably just in the way, what with her constant provocations and insults; if Euphemia had been in Arthur's shoes, she would've done the same thing. Besides, she was already dying of humiliation when she thought back to how she made Lulu go to that… _pedophile…_ to negotiate. If she got one more day with him, she would've apologized, over and over and over again.

Lelouch.

Suzaku had been telling her…so many times, how he's been trying to find his friend. If only she would give him some kind of hint, then it'd help him tremendously. If only she wouldn't be as cold as she was now, if only she'd smile at him once, if only if only if only.

The truth of the matter is she didn't know where Lelouch was. If she knew, she would've long since then told Suzaku. The problem was that Arthur's mind was always very fickle; he'd say one thing, then do the other, and even if he genuinely meant what he said, it was only for that moment. His vow didn't apply to any other period of time, unless of course, he swears to uphold it.

She hears footsteps behind her, and slowly turns. Though the ninja maid did annoy Euphemia at times, she was one of the only companions she could talk to. Since she is Lulu's sister, Sayako promised Euphemia she would keep all information strictly confidential, and would only feed Zero the boring stuff. She would always leave her guard down whenever Sayako came by; she just had that mature, peaceful aura one would expect from an adult. So when she caught Sayako from the corners of her eyes, Euphemia would've thought that atmosphere applied here as well.

It didn't.

She blinked. "Ms. Sayako?"

"Quick milady, away from the windows." With one thrust, she pulled Euphemia away from the glass and ran down the hall. Before Euphemia could ask, she turned, getting one last glimpse at the horizons.

The shoreline of the Chinese Federation was burning.


	6. Chapter 6

Kallen as she sat there in horror, as she watched the terrifying hellfire spread through the land's entirety. The embers blew profusely into the air, decorating the entire atmosphere with a chaotic shade of crimson. Ashes harshly sprinkled their delicate bodies nearer and nearer to the growling smoke, dedicating themselves to the cruelty that lay before them. There were people screaming helplessly, trying to get someone, anyone, to save them from their devastating plights. Soldiers were desperately attempting to escape, doing whatever they could to make it out of this strange place alive, from shoving civilians into the mud, or trampling them to death, or even decapitating them for being too slow. One by one, everything was reduced to nothing, an empty existence that claimed so many lives.

What was this? Purgatory? Hell? One moment, her eyes were closed, the burning depths slowly claiming the Lancelot, then the next, she was here. This place wasn't Vermillion, that much she knew. The black towers were too grand for that, as were the courtyards. The dead forests near the battlefield were a new thing, as was scorching ocean, whose pristine waters were slowly filled with bittersweet bodies. The castle up ahead was made entirely of stone, with large, arched windows reflecting the carnage around her. The banners waved wildly around the hazy smoke, proclaiming a victory it had already lost. She only had to look closer to realize that she'd been here before…

…fighting that Black Knightmare.

She looked down. Suddenly, everyone she knew disappeared, replaced by frantic enemy forces who were endeavoring to keep themselves alive. Rags decorated the grounds, and the beauty she admired within the Chinese Federation, the lights that radiated in justified vanity, the decorations that proudly showed off nationalistic glory, had vanished.

In the center of it all was Zero, riding on the shoulder of the Lancelot Albion. That usually unreadable mask was now amplifying all his emotions revealing every little thought he had in his head. His gloves shrouded the shadows curling near his hands, and his clothes were in disarray, making him look more like a demonic beast than her commander. His mask could have easily reflected some deadly grin dancing upon his lips.

And he was shouting something. She could definitely hear him saying something, but what? Was he gloating at how easily he decimated their numbers? Was he demanding compensation for both Oghi and Nunnally? Was he ordering them to leave and never return? Was he inviting them to join the UFN, in return for their complete surrender?

All the pilot could remember was the searing flames engulfing this place. The darkness etched itself into the archaic madness, and in that insanity, she could see Zero leading it like an old, fallen orchestra. The instruments were already rusted, falling apart at the seams, with the audience nowhere to be found. And still the conductor pushes forward, attempting to get the players to raise their once melodic songs, though the nightmares fell on deaf ears. His laughter was all rhythm the players needed, a murderous beat that taunted every human listening to it, daring the listeners to dance in that lost, tainted innocence, challenging them in every single way. Within that dark elegance, she remained hypnotized.

"Kozuki."

She jolted at the static, her eyes falling away from the blossoming nightmare. She barely managed to choke out his name. "Z-Zero…?"

"Why are you here?" he asked in a very calm, eerie manner. "What about the hostages?"

"Todoh's taking care of them…"

"I told you to stay behind."

"Y-yeah…but," the words were stuck in her throat. Though his voice was soft, sonorous, she couldn't tell if that was rage embedded in his tone, or disappointment, or sadness…or indifference. Yet at the same time, it captivated her, holding her against her own fiery will. But she pushed on. "We all got worried, so I decided to follow you."

Up ahead, Zero slowly turns to her, one hand against the front of his mask, the other steadying himself against the Knightmare. His dark cape flowed resiliently against the smoldering air, creating large, fearsome black wings. "Are you alone?"

"Yes sir."

"Then could you do something for me?"

"What sir…?"

She thought she heard him smirk then. "I want you to stay right there. Wait for me until I get back. There're some rats that've escaped."

Kallen was about to protest, when a big, red alert popped up onto her screen. Her mouth was slightly agape, as she distraughtly tried to move the Guren, who wasn't obeying her orders. She kept fumbling with it, trying to regain whatever senses she had left, the panic gradually rising in her chest. She had no control over her own armor.

The electricity flowing from the wires to the metal nearby. She kept herself back, shock overtaking her entire being. The Guren's wings were immediately shut off, and the rumbling resonated everywhere from within the Knightmare, and it didn't take Kallen to realize what was happening. Zero hacked her system.

He shut her down, just like that.

The white Knightmare disappeared then, along with Zero. Kallen clenched her teeth. Her knuckles blanched, while she turned her attention to the already cremated corpses lying around her. Stay _here?_ With all _this_ happening around them? Didn't he realize that she was his bodyguard, that it was her job to protect him? Didn't he know what was going to happen if this mess wasn't resolved? But more importantly, where _were_ _they?_ What _exactly_ did he _do_ here? How many people have died already from this one incident alone?

The questions pounded inside her head, like a bunch of immature children trying to get her attention. She replayed Zero's command over and over again. He talked as if she were nothing more than a spoiled brat, wanting to get in on the action. He acted like she knew nothing about combat, even though he's seen her skills. The situation wasn't urgent, yet he never clarified the orders he's given her. What would happen if she asked about them? Would he pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about? Would he cut her off, as he did now? Yes, she was his soldier, and she was the one at fault for going off on her own like that, but her pride was hurt all the same. The embarrassment was hard to ignore.

She gripped the controls, grappling with her own rebellious thoughts, then she opened the cockpit. She stepped out into the burning atmosphere. It doesn't matter what he says; her previous resolve was, at this point, her top priority. There was no doubt that Kallen would follow the commander anywhere. She would do anything for him, and would even die for him, as long as he upheld the peace Lelouch died for.

So, in her eyes, there wasn't a need to do anymore damage. She held fast to her stubbornness and proceeded to run toward the castle, the key around her neck.

The memories came flooding back as she made her way there. Her eyes never took care to examine the bodies lying near her, nor did she pay any attention to the massacre Zero might have very well caused. She never looked at the once beautiful buildings, now cracked and ruined, ready to fall at a given notice, or the trinkets the civilians dropped while running, from precious jewelry to worthless toys. Her pupils focused entirely on the tall, imposing gates which guarded the castle, laying there, vulnerable to whatever nature had in store for them. She jumped over the railing and went into the magnificent structure.

All the doors were missing, she noticed, as well as the glass that supposedly protected the building. The shards crunched beneath Kallen's weight, while she hurried through this maze. The smell of urine and feces covered the air with disgusting accuracy, but even then, she could recognize the structure. Yes, she's seen this before. She remembered the mission she was ordered to carry out, by Lady Vivian, she believed.

That's right, she was here to capture someone, though for some reason, she couldn't remember who. Her body began recalling the details of this grandiose home, the calm demeanor she had, the once glamorous rooms she never stopped to admire, as well as the lurking suspicion of corruption lurking underneath that beauty. She remembered how she, along with the entire Zero Squad, arrived at the throne room, where they were captured by a man in a mask that reminded Kallen of a phantom. She remembered hoe the wires wrapped around her body, as well as his warning of what would happen if she and her subordinates struggled against their makeshift prisons. She remembered how the man taunted her, knowing full well she couldn't escape without his aid.

She's had enough of this place. The sooner they leave, the better.

There was no chance the leader would be in the throne room; that person was too much of a coward to face their own death gloriously. Then again, how could? The entire militia has fled, and there was no standing army, from what Kallen could see. The higher-ups have evacuated, probably waiting for another chance at a counterattack. They were all cowards, not at all like the soldiers she fought before, so her best bet were the bedrooms; people hide there all the time.

It only took her so long to check them all. There weren't many guest rooms to begin with, mainly because most of them were barricaded by nails, or were so desolate she couldn't even stomach going in inside the poor thing. At last, she made it to what she believed was the main room, though she had her doubts. Like all the others, it was ruined, a far cry from her normal expectations. Kallen grabbed her pistol and pressed her ear against the surface; it didn't seem like anyone was in there.

She kicked open the door cautiously, and rapidly ducked behind the side. She blinked, waiting for the blasting beats of gunshots. There was none.

Very slowly, she peeked from behind the corner. Her eyes darted back and forth. Here too; the enchanting prettiness she found within her memories was robbed here as well. There were no glass shards this time, but rather, dust and decay. The cobwebs brushed past her heel, covering the floor's ice radiant shine, and the smell was so decadent and musty, it was hard for Kallen to imagine anyone living here. There were no clothes, nothing of personal value. There wasn't even a bed here. And yet there was still another curiosity that caught Kallen's mind.

In the middle of the room there was a large, golden bird cage.

It was tall enough to touch the ceilings. The bars were so thick Kallen had a hard time wrapping her hands around them, and the space was so small she could barely see through it. Her eyes widened.

There was a person inside it.

There was a big door at the front of it, with a neat little lock in the middle. She blinked, held the lock in her hands, and examined it. It was old, like everything else in the castle, and it didn't look like it was going to hold up. Still, it seemed like the type you use only when guarding the important stuff. She looked back up at the man, lying there. She didn't know if he was unconscious or dead, or if he was waiting for her to come in, killing her when she was off guard. She rapped the bars with one hand. "Hey, you!"

No answer.

"Get up!" she demanded furiously.

Still nothing.

She narrowed her eyes, grabbed the knife hidden in her boot, and began picking the lock. If he tried anything, she would shoot just shoot him between the eyes. She turned around a few times, making sure no one was behind her, just before the cage door opens. She crept into the cage, closing the door behind her, the lock in hand. She took care to scrutinize the man a bit more.

He wore black, graceless Victorian clothes that seemed to suffocate his body. There was a dark purple choker around his throat, and his dark brown hair was splayed everywhere. The black straps across his mouth was tightly knotted across is neck, and there was a grey blindfold across his eyes. Both his arms and legs were bound by chains.

Any hostility Kallen had was gone, as she crept closer to the man. Then, in one fluid motion, she swept down and started removing the bondage. Her eyes took in the sights of the cage, and she briefly paused at the almost thousands of vials, vials used to pump refrain into someone's system.

She hurriedly removed the neck strap, and felt for a pulse. It was faint, but there was one. First the chains came off, then the leather straps, and finally the blindfold. She turned the man over, and froze.

This was Lelouch. This was Lelouch she was holding.


	7. Chapter 7

Or at least, a man that looked like him.

His eyes were closed, but she couldn't help but admire that those forlorn, dark, heavy feathers he called hair, and that flawless skin she once worked so hard to preserve in the battlefield. The same nose, the same cheeks, the same lips; Kallen reached out to stroke his face, but stopped herself, reminding herself that this was nothing more than a stranger lying in her arms. Yet the similarities were so eerie that just for a second, she felt that familiar heartache.

It was a bittersweet love crushed that itself against her soul, from the kiss Kallen couldn't bring herself to regret, to Zero's blade piercing the Demon Emperor's stomach, to even that horrid realization of the lies Lelouch had told everyone. She could feel her chest raging all over those unspoken emotions, muddling over the stolen reality of what would have happened had he not carried out that plan, however brilliant it was, of what would've happened had not the Black Knights betrayed him, of what would've happened if he really did topple the entire Britannian Empire, and had taken her along for the ride. She could see herself all over again, lying awake at night, the tears dried along the creases of her pillow.

She clutched this man's arm, her fingernails digging into the fabric of his clothing. The tears threatened to come down, the very tips dancing on the brink of her eyelids. She regained her composure at the last second. She began shaking the man. "Hey! Are you alright?"

He didn't wake.

Again, she checked for a pulse, all the while gazing at the refrain vials scattered around the cage. The amount was truly staggering; if Kallen remembered correctly, this was probably ten times the dosage doctors found in her mother's body. To that extent, the woman was rendered incapable of speaking, or even thinking, for a long time. She was like that during her trial; she couldn't converse with her attorney, who was busy laughing with the prosecutor, nor could she stand for the sentencing.

A dark thought suddenly appeared in Kallen's mind.

Her eyes slowly cradled his peaceful face, bitting her lip with excruciating pressure. Carefully, she caressed his lifeless body in her arms and stood. "Don't worry," she whispered gently. "I'll take you to a doctor. Zero has-"

Zero.

 _Shit._

At this point, Kallen had no idea what Zero was going to do to this guy. After all, he carried the face of Lelouch vi Britannia, the former enemy of the world, and there was no guarantee that, at the moment, the commander would listen to anything she had to say. Besides, not too long ago, there was a lot of prejudice toward anything Lelouch related; it didn't take much time for his opponents to trash the dead royal's reputation completely. Even now, when things were supposedly forgotten, the hatred buried in the depths of everyone's nightmares, many people were still trying to find his grave, dreaming blissfully of spitting on the tombstone, attempting to dig up his body in random places and set it on fire; she even heard that someone was planning to urinate inside his coffin. She shuddered at every single threat made.

As she made her way out of the room, her hair sprinting past her, her mind kept racing for any possible answer. Though society was against it, she couldn't just leave the guy here. Her mother had a job now, working as a retailer for some big shot company. Kallen lived at home too, so maybe she could let him stay at her house for a while, at least until she figures out what to do next. Maybe she could just stash him somewhere…

She felt a very bad blush spread across her cheeks. She gulped down her frustrations. An unbearable amount of confusion had pushed itself on her immediately, attacking her with furiously deadly accuracy. Firstly, how the _hell_ was she going to hide a _somewhat dead person_ in her own _house?_ There was no way she could just sneak the Guren to the residential areas, nor could she just stuff him in a body bag; that'd make it look even more suspicious than it already is.

Then again, who knows? Maybe she'll get lucky, and no one will notice after all. Aside from this attack, the world was still relaxed, so there was no need for extra security (except, of course, for the Empress). She might just be able to get away with this. The guy will wake up, and she'll get a name out of him, as well as why he was there. She'll determine from there whether or not to turn him in.

Then again, that was all based on luck.

She made her way back to the Guren, grateful that Zero hadn't released his control yet. She stuffed the man behind her seat, and waited for further orders.

* * *

The Lancelot Albion glistened in the sharp red along the evening skies, the helmet forming a strange, heathen-like smile it usually now did, as it gazed out upon the destruction. The fiery seas formed an appropriate gate, the fading light dancing lightly near the edge of the abyss. The forests down below provided a swirl of thoughts that kept commanding the Knightmare, directing its movements ever so very gracefully. The director sat there, forming the insanity so lovingly, all with the flick of his fingers, while sitting in the comfort of his seat, chuckling happily.

Suzaku looked down at the radar. There were still a lot of enemies left, all hiding under those tall trees. He watched carefully as they formed that pathetic pattern he's recognized several times over, and at once, the amusement turned to boredom. He tilted the Lancelot aside a few feet, and observed the enemy slash harkens missing for the umpteenth time. He took a deep breath, and dived the Lancelot into the trees. Again, he missed the bullets and missiles that were so desperately aiming for him.

He wasn't thinking of anything in particular in that moment; all he could focus on was how much of a pleasant change the entire environment was. There was no despair, no emotionless lover to please. There was no one missing; everyone came back alive, as the world was led to believe. The Zero Requiem was a success, Nunnally was ruling the world with that natural finesse of hers, and the Chinese Federation was still in tact, with everyone celebrating the anniversary of the UFN's formation. There was no such thing as Arthur, or Guinevere, only plain little Euphie.

That's right; Euphie was waiting for him to return home. She was waiting for him, Arthur in her arms, waving his tiny paws around.

She didn't need to see any of this.

Suzaku smirked, weaving his way through the branches, that wise arrogance conquering his being. First a left, then a right, then, in an instant, he was a mere inch away from the black Knightmare. His sword came down, and tore it apart, along with the pilot.

Before any of the squad could move, Suzaku twisted the anchorage, and the metal chords came bursting out of the Lancelot's arms, wrapping themselves around the machines. How ironic; they made one neat, straight line. He staked the slash harkens onto the ground, then, with his sword, impaled the Knightmares in one go. He could hear their screams, even from in the Lancelot. Suzaku breathed heavily, as he shoved them off the Lancelot. He only had to squint his eyes to see that cute squirt of blood on the edge.

"Bastard!" He heard from behind.

Quickly, Suzaku swirled the Lancelot around, already making out the predicted path of the bullets, and laughed softly. These guys were jokes; their attacks were always linear, and though they had energy wings, they weren't using the blades for anything other than evading. Initially, it did concern him that they weren't attacking him from behind; perhaps it was because he was falling for some fatal trap, or maybe there was someone was attacking from above. However, his fears were unfounded.

They were all just desperate to get away.

He sped up and shot the stray Knightmare with his VARIS, effectively quieting the unimportant threat. He pulled up the controls on the screen, and began hacking into the remaining Knightmare systems surrounding him. Suzaku wasn't smart enough to develop this kind of attack all by himself; this was all Lelouch's doing. Ever since the attack on the Damocles, Lelouch managed to set up an entire offensive maneuver in the event the enemy became too numerous to handle. Suzaku never knew how his friend did it, but the immediate virus did save a lot of time.

He locked the cockpits. From the radios, he could hear them panicking, screaming, trying rashly to break free from their compartments. He held up his right hand, and counted down…5…4…3…2…1

Suzaku set the Lancelot Albion atop the skies, and watched as the rest of the Knightmares self-destructed.

He marveled at the tiny firework displays. Suzaku leaned back against his chair and stretched. What a wonderful show. Ah, but what's this? Someone managed to get out. Suzaku readied himself again, a devilish smirk planted on his face, when suddenly, he stopped.

 _Suzaku._

He couldn't move; his muscles refused to listen to his commands, and his hand stopped short of the controls. He narrowed his eyes. That familiar pink dotted the edge of his bangs once again, and even from the darkness, he could see the vagueness of her eye color. He clenched his fists, his precious illusions shattered. "What're you doing here Euphie?" he said finally. "I thought I told you to stay with Sayako."

He felt her frustration, though her tone remained calm, her sweet voice echoing from the corners of his mind. _I can take care of myself. Come home._

 _"_ I can keep going."

 _It's not you I'm concerned about,_ she clarified frostily. _You've already gotten rid of the armies. What harm will one man do?_

Suzaku stiffened. "You're worried more about a stranger than about me? Might I remind you, _your Highness,_ that though I am no longer your knight, I am still obliged to protect you." Euphie paused for a moment, as the full force of his words sank in. He listened intently, all the while watching that one man looking around, trembling, with both hands on a rifle. Suzaku evenly regarded him. "I have perfect reason to believe King Arthur is after your life, Euphie," he continued. "He's a threat, and I'm not going to take any chances. This soldier isn't worth anything; I'm gunning him down."

 _If you let him go, you could find out where the enemy is hiding._

"I sincerely doubt we have the resources to hunt him down," Suzaku explained harshly. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and looked away from the terrified prey. "Besides, the leader wasn't even there, in that makeshift manor of theirs."

 _Where are you?_

"I was in the Forbidden City when the incident occurred."

 _You're not anywhere near Kanime Island then?_

He nodded. "A protectorate." he concluded. Suzaku stared off to the side, taking in the grief-stricken town. Well, even before he arrived, the place was in such ruins as it was. He could even say that it looked better now than it did before, kind of like a badly needed extreme makeover. And the inhabitants all looked like they were suffering so much, the townspeople, before he arrived; though it was "immoral", at the very least, he did put them out of their misery. Euphie should be _thanking_ him. "But I _am_ in that world, right?"

He could practically see Euphie shaking her head. _A dead end. Arthur's got a labyrinth all over the Gates._

Suzaku sighed then. "This truly is troublesome." He closed his eyes, as he listened to the soldier's frantic sounds from down below. In a way, he sounded like he was groveling at Zero's knees, begging for a tiny piece of mercy he was never going to get. The saliva was all over his face, and as of now, he may have looked more animal than human. What a truly pathetic creature he was.

Suzaku opened his eyes. "By the way, what made you want to help out all of a sudden? After half a year of silence, what made you change your mind?"

 _I've always told you that you were like me,_ Euphie said calmly. _I never thought you'd stoop so low that you'd act like me._

So that's how it was.

Suzaku laughed quietly, Euphie's influence slowly leaving his body. She didn't know about this, of course. If she did, her hold would've been stronger, rendering Suzaku a useless puppet, a doll in the arms of his mistress. Her wires would wrap around his arms, her words his commands; back then, he would've done anything to please her, anything at all, even if it meant degrading himself. He would gladly have done whatever she asked for, as long as he knew it was _her._

However, the past was always filled with little thoughts like that, isn't it?

"Euphie," he said softly. He heard her gasp painfully, as he began struggling from those wires. He moved on his own, the force of his own brain attacking hers vindictively. "I'd rather you not meddle in military affairs."

With one, deep breath, he tugged sharply against her chords, and, true to his word, gunned the soldier down.


	8. Chapter 8

Nunnally watched carefully as Suzaku entered the throne room, her observant eyes taking in his weary, ash-stricken movements. Though the Zero costume wasn't ruined, and his face was blank, she could tell there was something off about him today. Kallen confirmed that he wasn't injured, and even when Nunnally listened, his footsteps seemed normal.

It'd been three days since the attack, and as of this moment, the world was once again, in complete chaos. There were many people who were calling on the officials to hunt the terrorists down; some want executions, others want indemnities paid toward the UFN and the Chinese Federation. There were nations who wanted blood, while others wanted to compromise, like they believed they did with Alfheimr. But many are curious to know who these people were, how they managed to sneak in, and most of all, how Zero dealt with them.

The first two questions were difficult to answer, and even still, Nunnally had a hard time coming up with a suitable one, forcefully wringing words together so that it wouldn't make the leaders seem weak or inefficient.

The third one, however, Nunnally had no answer to.

It was strange for Suzaku to just go off like that. There were many Black Knights coming to meet him that night, all who were wiling to follow any order, yet he chose to go off alone. He didn't even take Kallen with him. And when he did come back, he hadn't said a single word about the incident, none at all. He simply told her not to worry, that everything will be fine, that the masses will go back to their lives with no trouble at all.

He left before Nunnally could say anything more.

So now, here he was, by orders of the Britannian Empress. She wasn't comfortable with the idea, really. It made Zero seem like a subordinate, rather than an equal.

She watched as he slowly ascended the stairwells, briefly scanning the room to make sure there was no one near. His black gloved hand removed the mask, revealing a face she could barely recognize anymore.

The same features were still there. Green eyes, once bathing in childish radiance, were now brilliantly shinning, so much so they were almost a shade lighter than what they once were. His hair became ethereal, with the strands almost floating down to the edge of his face whenever he took another step. There was no scar upon his face, no mark that blemished some dark, dangerous beauty he now carried, and the way he held himself, Nunnally couldn't help but wonder what sort of secrets he was hiding, what kind of scandals he's gotten himself into.

She choked down her curiosity, and regarded him evenly. "Your Highness," he said in that familiar, warm tone. She looked up shyly; it'd been a while since she last spoke with him.

"Suzaku," she replied, "what happened?"

"I've sent them a warning about what I will do should they decide to disturb the peace again."

Nunnally narrowed her eyes. There was a threat lingering within that thick voice. How could he keep that smile on his face? "You never told anyone else about this?"

"I haven't." Suzaku closes his eyes, and immediately, that smile fades, replaced by something less sincere. Nunnally could recognize that dishonesty automatically, and her mouth twitched. "Suzaku, what are you planning on doing? You said you'd work together with me, remember?"

Suzaku walked closer, that expression fading away in the instant. "I know. I swear to you though, it'll be fine. I'll take care of them, okay?"

"There's already been an attack-"

"I'll deal with them. I assure you Nunna, that you're the last thing they'll be coming after." She felt his hand against the crown of her forehead, rubbing it affectionately. "Despite the fact they took you and the others hostage."

"Then what is it?" Nunnally was frenzied. She could feel her friend slipping away, brooding in a secret world where she would have no place in. "Does it have something to do with those people again? With Alfheimr?"

Suzaku shook his head, the frown tugging at his lips. "I'm not sure. But I'll find out, so don't worry, alright?"

He was about to take his hand away, when, all of a sudden, Nunnally grabbed it. He blinked, tensing at her immediate impatience, but then relaxed as she pressed both her palms against it. He was cold; that natural warmth he used to bring everywhere was slowly disappearing, gone within a moment his flesh touched the air.

Why?

"Suzaku," Nunnally began. "Are you sure you'll be the only one to deal with this problem?"

He nodded. "Please tell everyone else, Kaguya included. You know how much she likes getting involved, right?"

Nunnally never answered.

What was she going to do? No one knew about her situation, and it was so unique it didn't feel like Nunnally had anyone to turn to. Ella lost her only child, and it was so obviously clear she was still in mourning, while Schniezel was off with Zero, finishing the restoration efforts in France. Kallen was in school, and it wasn't like Nunnally could just drag her out of college to talk with her about her own problems. The relationship between the two girls were fragile enough, aside from the fondness they had with Lelouch, as well as the knowledge of the plans he carried out. Sayako was with Suzaku, guarding over Horai Island, while Tianzi and Kaguya were busy with their own countries.

Even when the incident was far behind her, she would sit in front of Lelouch's chessboard, pondering on the strategies she could've used against Lady Vivian. There were many, of course…too many, to the point where she didn't know what the best course of action was. There were so many variables, and just too little information to go off of. From the fire's aftermath, to the now fallen Alfheimr, Nunnally had already suspected Suzaku keeping so many secrets from her…secrets she had every right knowing, if they caused this much damage.

She reluctantly pulled Suzaku's hand away, and stared up at him with clairvoyant eyes. "Suzaku, you're not hiding anything from me, are you?"

She felt his fingers twitch for a moment, but his pulse remained calm. In fact, it seemed to get slower and slower with each second. "I'm not Nunnally."

She allowed his fingers to slip from her grasp. "Promise?"

"Promise." And with that, he took a step back, and relayed to her what she believed was the truth. Even when he stood there, attentive as usual, his now unearthly eyes trained on hers, he still carried that apprehensive look on his face. He then left her, alone in that very, very big room.

Nunnally couldn't help but feel that Suzaku had lied to her.

* * *

The suffering was incredibly beautiful.

Even from here, he could make out the labor the peasants had to get reacquainted with, their agonizing, melodic cries bringing him deeper and deeper into sleep. He could see those old, ruined buildings, buildings that were once built off of greed and lust and pride, the rebellious sort. He could see the now bloodstained forest, with those traitorous corpses hanging from the branches like so, their limbs beginning to fall off. He could see the daily executions going on in the courtyards down below; there was one perpetrator struggling this time, trying to maintain his innocence, doing everything he could to make the villagers listen.

They all listened, of course.

But a majority of them were up next, after him.

Luzhin stood there, content with the present situation. He breathed in the scents, the bloody nightmares of practically everyone in the kingdom. It was all like a refreshing wave of cool air to him. Well, this _was_ expected; pay evil unto evil was the saying, correct? He used to remember a time when he was brushed aside by the very lot who were now groveling at his feet. No one ever acknowledged him, no one at all. His reputation was gradually falling, to the point where he was considered to the status of a madman. Even the old regime cast him aside, suppressing all his terrific ideas of what to do with the kingdom, how to handle the ever growing pressures of it.

However, that was before.

His Highness's beloved magic was, once again, coursing through the vanity of his veins, the high official already very drunk on the sensation alone. It wasn't at all chaotic as the Queen's, nor was it as kind or gentle. It was cruel, merciless, isolated, sadistic, belonging to Luzhin and Luzhin alone. It filled his blood with the pride he so desperately needed, and its icy wave washed over him. Once again, he was beautiful.

"Sir."

Luzhin turned, and gave a dark scowl to that simple, stone knight, who dared to approach him so freely. The paladins, His Majesty enjoyed calling them, were dressed all in white. This particular knight had silver padding that decorated it from head to toe, and the chains it dragged around on its ankles couldn't be all the more than annoying. The sword attached to its waist dragged on the ground, ruining the marble floors Luzhin spent so much time forcing the peasants to renovate. His eyes twitched, and he looked up at its emotionless face. "What?"

"Milord wants to see you."

"Oh?" Luzhin shifted his weight from one leg to the other, putting his hand on his hip. He raised an eyebrow, with that same, cocky grin on his face. The blue, thick cape he had on flourished with the grandiose movements of his arms. "Is it urgent?"

"Quite. Please leave immediately."

His Majesty once told Luzhin that he made sure they possessed no heart. They were lifeless beings, reanimated puppets that could keep regenerating, that could keep fighting on, even when they already smashed to dust. They were a fearsome lot, and if enough of them swarmed over the enemy, the poor victims would have no chance of surviving. He remembered the King weaving them individually, sculpting them into what he believed was perfection.

He was an artist, no doubt.

The fairy sighed. Well, Luzhin couldn't just leave the man sitting there, waiting for his undying presence to show up. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he owed the king. Luzhin nodded, and the soldier faded away, crumbling into nothing. He proceeded to walk to the throne room in an easy stride.

Luzhin couldn't forget the way Arthur first walked in, how he sat there on the throne, with that overpowering magic of his. He remembered how a lot of the students, the filthy peasants, and even some of the aristocrats, had rebelled against his rule. He remembered how easily Arthur made their bodies bow, their blood staining the white floors. He remembered how he torched the lands, bringing all of Euphemia's allies under his control, from Lord Drake in the Summer Lands, to even Mab in the Winter Courts. He remembered the way the King proclaimed his return, and how he was going to destroy everyone who opposed him, how he was going to assert his will and turn the Courts to his own, justified ways once again. He remembered all the murders that took place that day, from the destruction Titania's body, to even Lady Vivian's beheading. Arthur even ate her heart for dinner the very same night.

Even after all these years of waiting and watching, all 150 years of them, Queen Euphemia had not returned. Mordred and Morgan were nowhere to be seen, so it was safe to assume that they were both dead, taken off guard by the very same man they thought they'd destroyed. The armies the Queen built were all decimated in one night, and those 'Knightmares', those disgusting machines Euphemia had spent so much time developing, were now in the hands of her enemy. To this day, Luzhin still mocked her efforts, hers and her fools.

Luzhin came into the throne room, and threw open, those warm doors, the doors that opened up his entire life. He found Arthur there, seated upon that glorious throne. The King appeared as he had from before, that platinum hair draping down his frame in such a delicate manner. The wrinkles that once grazed his face have all disappeared, and that golden, tainted shimmer in his eyes was more than enough to secure Luzhin's loyalty. His armor was white, with the bold, red cape cascading down his back, and there was something special commanding about his charismatic personality, something influential, that made a group of powerful sinners to give into their temptations. Every facade that had ever met Arthur was destroyed, replaced by something more hideous, more realistic; the very transformation was so gruesome Luzhin couldn't help but admire His Majesty for it.

He bowed low, his own green, silk robes draping onto the floor like so, one hand on his heart, the other on the ground. He closed his eyes in awe of the angel sitting above him. "Your Majesty," he murmured.

The king stared at him for a while, before drawing upon his own voice. "Luzhin, something precious of mine has gone missing."

Luzhin's lips twitched, and slowly, he opened his eyes. What? "I assure you, your Majesty. You have everything you need, all right here."

"It's a dear, dear thing of mine," he continued calmly, as if Luzhin had never spoken a word. "I love it with all my being, and I say to you it is gone."

The lowly official stiffened. "What is this thing, your Majesty?"

"My dear, sweet fool."

Fool? He never even knew Arthur had a court jester to begin with, and a brief pang of jealousy jabbed Luzhin's side. But still, he obeys. "We will look for the jester then."

"Yes, please do."

"Um…your Majesty, if you don't mind, please tell me what this fool looks like?"

His Majesty closed his eyes, as if savoring those past moments in delicious nostalgia. He licked his lips, before beginning again, an amiable atmosphere decorating the frame of his normally heartless air. "He has amethyst eyes, with a light, fickle shade, like the irises outside," he whispered quietly.

Luzhin blinked, his eyes firmly on the marble floors. "Is that all?"

Arthur's eyes flickered irritatingly at him. "That's all."

"I…I see. We will look for him then, your Majesty."

"Please do."

Even after Luzhin assembled the idiotic, blockheaded armies, and scattered them across the realms, he couldn't help but wonder if this was all just some prank Arthur decided to play on him.

* * *

The sensation of having your throat ripped out wasn't as gruesome as people believe.

It didn't really hurt, and at worst, it made him want to scratch his neck a little. In truth, the blood managed to bring out some illusion, however sick it may have been, that his throat wasn't actually being taken out. There were no teeth biting into his flesh, no imaginary saliva seeping into the wound, no gross kisses dancing along his collarbone; there was no one touching him. Because once that troublesome organ was removed, he'd have a hard time screaming. If there was no sound, there was only silence. If there was only silence, it'd feel like he didn't exist.

And if he didn't exist, then this thing wasn't happening to him.

He'd feel those wonderful substances take effect, as they grabbed hold of every nerve in his body, then proceeded to stroke them softly, telling his senses that everything was going to be fine. He wouldn't feel the violations, the delusional sorrows of the aftermath, all the ugly things in life he'd forgotten so very long ago. Sometimes, after he'd regain consciousness, he would wonder if what he was experiencing at those moments were all just some dream gone horribly wrong; to be separated from all that, slipping away into that dark, pleasant slumber, did have its costs after all.

But then, maybe it didn't. Memories bring a lot of pain. And there was so much pain in the world that it was astonishing, how far he'd been able to carry on. Here he was, reduced to little more than a trembling, craven doll, yet in the end, he was spared from tragedy. All he had to do was shut his eyes, and everything would disappear. Being trapped here, in the emptiness, wasn't all that bad either; no one came for him, and with the exception of the creature that visited him every time, he wasn't sure he saw any other living face.

Suddenly, he bit down on his lip, holding himself against the cold. The freezing night kept picking at his skin in that revolting way. He gasped for breath, as he began descending into that chasm.

He was drowning.

Something was pulling him down.

In that shroud, he felt a very sharp, searing pain along his thighs. That same pain caressed the corners of his mouth, tearing away at his gums and cheeks.

Keep silent.

Keep silent.

He started tasting blood. That was blood, wasn't it? Flowing into his mouth so readily? No, he didn't want anymore. Stop it.

Stop it.

Stop it!

 _Stop it!_

His eyes opened.

He blinked, the hazy atmosphere becoming clearer and clearer to him. The cold sweat stuck to his skin. His arms were to his side, his hands clutching something soft and cool. The covers wrapped around his body snuggly, holding him against his own will. Slowly, he groped for everything around him, the confusion gradually becoming more and more horrific. He jolted upwards.

Where was he?

There was a small, cozy desk, underneath a window with white, see-through curtains, allowing him to catch a glimpse of what was going on outside. The bed was here, on the side, with a bunch of colorful blankets tucked around him, all of which hurt his eyes. There was a miniature bookshelf in front of the bed, with a brown teddy bear placed on the very top, the dust already beginning to accumulate from neglect. He turned to the side, and saw pictures. Pleasant pictures, from what he could tell.

There were so many, but he could recognize those same group of friends, he believed, over and over again. All had smiles on their faces, all looked like they were having a good time. They were normal looking people, the happiness embedded in those various poses. There was no one he recognized. He cocked his head a bit, pondering on their stories, on the tales he'll never get to hear. Then, a cautiously exciting thought occurred to him.

He wasn't in the cage anymore.

He stared out the window again, and squinted his eyes. The streets were busy, and there were a lot of people just standing around, their pleasant conversations filling the air. There was a cool shadow overcast along the white buildings, with many of those people resting underneath. There were a lot of street vendors here and there, with the lively air that claiming the inhabitants. The scene seemed awfully familiar, though he never knew where.

All he knew, at that time, was how much he wanted to be there, in that light.

He removed the covers, his arms promptly bringing him away from the now irritating blankets. He took a deep breath, and began standing. Right foot, over the left, then another…

He collapsed, dragging the covers down with him.

His eyes widened at the numbness in his legs.

He couldn't move.

He sat up, and tried again, only to produce those same results. His legs refused to obey him. _Go out there!_ he kept commanding them, only for them to ignore him completely. He looked around anxiously for anything that could help him stand. His body cried out in agony, demanding that he stop. He sat against the bed then, his back touching the cold, metal frame, as he gazed sideways.

He had no idea where he was. He didn't know who brought him here, or what they even wanted with him. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything for himself, and was helpless in every sense of the word. He couldn't recall anything that happened prior to this, and even before then, before the darkness. He didn't even know what he looked like anymore, nor could he remember a name, any name. He didn't know what to do at this point.

He turned back to the pictures, trying to suppress his rising panic. Well, even if they were all lies, and if this was just another illusion he's made up, the images were soothing, bringing him away from the increasingly dangerous situation. So he turned back, settled in that little spot of his, and waited for the stranger to return.


	9. Chapter 9

It was the first time Euphemia ever looked in him in the eyes like that.

Suzaku wasn't sure how he felt about it. He preferred not being the target of her anger, especially since he knew how terrifying she could be, nor did he enjoy staring at her emotionlessly as he did now. His heart ached at the bags under her eyes, and at how she clutched some unknown sword near her thighs, reminding him of the raper she had to leave behind. Even before he entered the room, she was pacing back and forth, like some caged animal trying to break free, a cage he put her in.

Yet he broke free from that thought, not allowing his fragile heart to be scratched. After all, she was just as beautiful, and just as sane as the girl he knew before. She Though she was helpless, she was under his protection; he'd rather that doll not appear again, as if she was trapped amidst a living death. As long as she showed any emotion at all, it was fine.

Even if she hated him for it, as he felt she did now.

Euphie stood from her normal spot in the gardens. Initially, he was a bit surprised to see the empty plate on the table, and almost beamed at it. However, his eyes trailed to the floor, seeing the scraps of food already being picked at by those hungry parasites that somehow managed to sneak in. Crows flocked by, enjoying their little buffet with their greedy tastebuds, those annoying noises beckoning him to get frustrated with her, to scream at her, to throttle that beautiful neck of hers, prying for the answers as to why she was acting this way.

But he merely placed his hands behind his back, and gave her a simple, content smile.

"This is the first time you've ever called me back," he said, unwilling to hide the excitement behind his voice. "I suppose the food isn't to your liking?"

She slammed her hand on the table, causing all the crows to flee from the already violent scene. "Why?" Euphie demanded, taking a threatening step forward. "Just what did you think you were doing Suzaku?"

That smile faded fast, replaced by a small frown that told his rebellious lady everything she needed to know. "I've already told you why. And why are you the one getting upset? You were the one who interfered with the assault, Euphie."

She clenched her fists, the glares piercing him with every second past. "Interfered? I did the right thing by interfering, _Sir Kururugi,"_ she hissed. "That was a pointless massacre, and you know it."

Suzaku's eye twitched; he too, had trouble controlling his emotions, more so than usual. "Euphie, I would appreciate it if you didn't bring up something like that. In a way, you're acting a bit hypocritical."

"Hypocritical?" she repeated softly. Suzaku's calm demeanor evaporated, and a something very disturbing occurred to him; she really was _that_ blind, wasn't she? "Suzaku, you need to understand that those people aren't monsters-"

"They were willing to kill everyone in that room-"

"You've got _my_ magic, so why not just-"

"Like I've got any _clue_ how to work that!"

"Still, you shouldn't have-"

"They shot Nunnally-"

"They were following orders!" she stated, holding herself firm. "They were doing what they were told, and if you kept that soldier alive, we could've found out more! You know that!"

"So what'd you suggest?" Suzaku mocked. "Torture? Beheading? A little tour of Buckingham Palace or Pendragon? He'll say anything if it serves himself Euphie! Besides, you had _no right_ to do what you did back there! I had the situation under control!"

"You shut down your own Ace!" Euphie shouted mercilessly. "There's no telling what she could have seen! Remember, you _weren't_ in the Chinese Federation, but some land off in the Unseelie Courts!"

"You should know I'm doing this for your sake," he warned darkly. He stepped toward Euphie, a quiet anger resonating from his body. "You haven't been talking to me Euphie. No, scratch that. You've been _ignoring me for the last six months!_ I've been doing everything I can to try and find Lelouch, but you…just…aren't helping! I've tried getting back into the Courts on Kanime Island, but I just can't!"

Euphie narrowed her eyes. "Maybe I haven't told you anything because I _don't know anything! And what the hell gives you the right to treat me like some damn criminal?"_

"Criminal?" Suzaku barked out a very harsh laugh. A low growl sounded from Euphie's throat. "That's right! I have been, aren't I? You're staying in this grand garden, with your every whim _catered to you._ You've got a good place to live in, I almost _never_ see you, and to top it off, you've got your own personal maid! Oh!" He imitates a foolish bow, clutching his heart with one hand, flourishing his broken pride with the other. "I'm sorry, _your Highness._ I didn't mean to offend you with my concern!"

"Just shut up!" she screamed back. "I know you've been trying. _I've been trying too!_ I can't get in; don't you see that Suzaku? _I can't get in!_ You don't know how long I've been doing that same trick over and over and over again! I'm racking my brain here, trying to figure out what to do! The world is moving on without me, and I haven't got a clue what I'm supposed to do now! Hell, I don't even know if my kingdom is still _mine_ anymore! I have no friends, no allies, and…"

Her voice trailed off then. She ran her fingers threw her hair, suddenly tired of this persistent lover in front of her. She closes her eyes for a brief second, as if trying to come up with the right words to say. Suzaku bit his tongue, and looked away. "Why?" he asked finally. "If you didn't know anything, why didn't you just…?"

"I had no idea what you were capable of," Euphie admits, resigning in defeat. That stubborn, bright resilience returns to her eyes once again, this time however, with much more malevolence. Her arms dropped to her side. "So now what? You've lost your only lead."

"I don't see why I can't go there again," Suzaku countered.

"I told you Suzaku; that was a dead end you just walked into, and this is Arthur's barrier you're dealing with here."

Suzaku blinked. That man who attacked Nunnally…he wanted to bring Euphie to Arthur, didn't he? Now that Euphie was here, time should be moving differently again, that enchanted world dancing faster and faster around the pendulum's lullaby. So why?

He took another step forward. "Euphie, you can't get back, right?"

"That's right."

"You're sure about that?"

Euphie sighed, went back to her chair. She turned it around, and sat there, her legs crossed. "I'm sure." she answered suspiciously. "Why? What happened?"

"Apparently, Arthur's still looking for you."

Euphie's eyes widened a bit. Her body stiffened, but she slowly slouched back, taking in the force of Suzaku's observation. But the surprise was just as devastating to him as well. He fought back a sigh of relief, and slowly, he made his way toward her, stealing away all the seconds he needed, as he let the realization sink in. He was only a few feet away now.

"Euphie," he whispered quietly, "what you said before…it's not true. You still have friends and allies. You have me."

Her eyes refused to meet his again, returning now to that original, blank slate. And so, here they were, back to where they first began.

Suzaku took a deep breath, and approached her. That same terrifying beauty was still there, though it's been marred by secrets and distrust. He remembered their days in that dreamlike garden, sweet words of love exchanged from one to the other. He could still feel her hair through his fingers, the cool silk falling to his arms so readily. He could hear her tinkering laughter, and, for once, allowed himself to imagine of what it'd be like had they had a chance to marry, to grow old together.

It was that sensation that led him to crouch down, and take both her now icy hands in hers. "Please Euphie. Just tell me what's going on-"

"I said I don't know." She repeated blankly. She made no attempt to return his warmth, and even as he tried getting her to speak again, there was nothing. Nothing at all, not even that spark of irritation that began this whole mess.

So he stood and left her there, in all her shattered loneliness.

Her azure eyes kept staring at the projector, following his old wrinkled hands. She had her textbook in front of her, with a blank page nearby, as she jotted down the professor's every word, while simultaneously reading the passage in front of her. She kept turning the page whenever he mentioned a new topic, and she furiously wrote the questions being asked. The highlighters were splayed all over her desktop, the pens all out of ink. She smiled confidently at her work. She was going to ace this test.

That's how Kallen should have acted today.

For the entire morning, she couldn't concentrate. She's read through the material, and she knew what she was doing, yet all the same, she couldn't help but feel a bit anxious, squirming in her seat as the professor kept drawing out his long lecture. She kept looking out the windows, thinking of home, at the clock, trying to count down each second until the day was over. Her leg kept shaking as she thought of the strange man on her bed, wondering whether or not he'd woken up yet, or if he was brain dead, or if, somehow, her mother came home early, only to find him there, unconscious or not.

So, by the afternoon, she raced off the campus.

After Zero released her Guren that night, Kallen only had to look up to see the Forbidden City once again. True to his word, Todoh managed to keep the hostages safe, with Nunnally rushing up to her and asking if the pilot's punched her wayward friend or not (Kallen never answered). Fortunately, Zero never asked for a report, nor did he speak with her again; she couldn't tell if he was pissed, or if something happened that made him snap back to his senses. Either way, she managed to slip her Knightmare away from the prying soldiers and reporters, and head back to Tokyo, where she stowed the man away in her home.

She was embarrassed, frustrated, wondering on what was going on in Zero's mind, but at that moment, the strange man was her first priority, and she didn't want to waste anymore time with questions. She didn't know what made her stash him in her house; perhaps it was because he looked like Lelouch, and that there'd be no guarantee he'd get even decent treatment from a hospital, or maybe it was for sentimental reasons.

Yes, that was it. If she could do that day over again, when Lelouch's plan had yet to unfold, she would've protected him, no matter what. It was a nice thought, but it was so bittersweet she couldn't tell.

She rounded the streets, her faded jeans dragging along the pavement. She didn't stop to talk with the tourists, like she usually did, nor did she take in those wonderful sights of every nationality gathered around the candles of that upcoming autumn ball. She didn't know how many children she's tripped over, nor did she realize the chaos she was causing. Everyone greeted her normally, but she barely noticed their happy attitudes, zeroing in on the apartment nearby.

Then she froze.

She took a deep breath, then, calmly, took out her keys, and opened the door. Slowly, she creaked the barrier open, revealing the house the same way she left it. That grey, comfortable-looking couch was still there, as well as their television set, which was seated neatly along the dresser nearby. The noodle sandwiches were in the same spot, sitting on a plate with yellow smiley faces on the edge, untouched by hungry hands. The back door was never opened, and the binds never moved, even in her presence. She puts down her bag and shuts the front door, then cautiously walked in.

The bedroom door didn't look disturbed. She blinked, then moved forward. It looked like her mother had to leave for work early again. Generally, Kallen would be a bit upset by her sudden departure, but a guilty reprieve brushed against her chest. At the very least, it gave her a few hours to come up with a decent plan.

Her footsteps smoothly glided along the floors. She stopped at the front of her door, and slowly, turned the knob. She had no idea what to expect from this man. A part of her hoped that Lelouch had been revived, like Shirley, or even the victims from the Narita Massacre, or the SAZ incident. But another part wanted him to stay dead, so that she, along with everyone else, could move on from the past. She wanted him to experience this era he created, and how hard both the new Zero and Nunnally worked to maintain it, but she also didn't want to show him the chaos that'd been restarted. She wanted to show him all the good things, hide the bad, so it didn't look like that his efforts have been wasted.

She didn't want to feel ashamed.

The bedroom door creaked open, and she peeked open. Her eyes widened at the scene.

Somehow, he made it out of the bed. And now, he was sitting on the floor, head against the frame, sleeping.

She blinked, and walked over. She crouched down, and examined him carefully. He really was quite handsome, but then again, so was Lelouch. He had the same hair, a similar face, and the way he slouched…she couldn't help but reach out and touch his neck, trying to see if he was still alive.

She saw his fingers twitch.

She straightened herself, grabbed her chair, and sat down. She endeavored to appear business-like, but her heart pounded against her chest. Her stomach was churning, and she gripped the edge of her desk, her nails piercing the surface of the poor thing. She kept her eyes on him, trying to pear through his bangs.

His head slowly rose, his bangs covering his eyes. She was relieved, and immediately, her professional act broke down. She smiled softly. "Hi."

His head turned to the direction of her voice. Good, looks like he can hear, at least. She strolled over to him, and was surprised when he backed away, even though he couldn't go any farther. She took his hand. "No, don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you."

He stopped there, and looked at her through his unseen eyes. She could see the fear turning the gears in his mind, as he pondered on the truth of her words. His reaction stung a bit, but she knew it was normal; waking up in a stranger's house, after staying in that hellhole, must be a bit confusing. So she sat in front of him and crossed her legs, gazing at him with an encouraging expression. "I'm Kallen. What about you?"

His lips parted slightly. He tried to speak, no voice came out. His hand immediately came up to his throat, and his lips frowned in depression and disappointment. He can't talk, she realized. She closed her eyes, and leaned back. "It's fine. Just nod your head for yes, shake it for no. Understand?"

He nodded, much to her relief. She settled in her spot, and stared up at him with curious eyes. "Do you remember anything?"

He shook his head.

"Do you know how you ended up in that place?"

 _What place?_ he almost seemed to ask.

He understood Japanese, so that has to mean something, and if she had to guess, he was more than likely Britannian. As she sat there, piecing together his identity, he turned his head, looking outside. It only took Kallen a few moments to see where he was looking at. "Oh, you're at my house. I didn't think it'd be the safest bet to take you to a hospital. You were pretty incapacitated, so, um-"

His bangs parted slightly. She leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes, and her heart fell when golden orbs stared back at her. However, she had to admit they were warm, a bit childlike, big and wide. She could see the innocence permeating from his corneas, and the pure, raw emotion that escaped from his soul. They weren't smoldering, the kind that always infatuated people, nor did they house anything devious or scandalous, no not at all; rather, they were something else, something she hadn't seen for a long time. It reminded Kallen of a slowly, burning fireplace, in the midst of some raging winter; it made her feel welcome, it really did. She didn't even think Nunnally had those same eyes.

But she's seen them somewhere before. She just couldn't remember where.

He looked around, the apprehension gradually slipping from his face. "We're in my room," she explained. "I live here, along with my mother."

He blinked, then nodded. Afterwards, he turned to the plentiful pictures that grazed her wall. Her eyes softened at the very mention of them, and chuckled quietly, her shrine already receiving a bit of attention. "My friends." She stated proudly. "Kind of silly, huh?"

Slowly, he shook his head, then turned back. He stared at her with those warm eyes, a bit of that terrified animal now gone. She had no idea how much of the outside world he's experienced, or if he was kidnapped, or anything like that, and suddenly, she knew what to do. "Hey, why don't we go outside?"

Immediately, his expression brightened, and she couldn't help but giggle a little. She stood up then, and expected him to stand as well. She cocked her head. "Come on. You do, don't you?"

There was a dejected look on his face, but a fiery perseverance tugged at his lips. He clenched his fists, and struggled. But he just kept sitting there, his legs not moving. A brief expression of pain flashed his face. Kallen narrowed her eyes, and crouched beside him. She poked the side of his knee, carefully staring at his face. "Can you feel anything?"

He shook his head.

Dread washed over her readily. Her hand fell to her knees, her eyes not particularly looking at anything, as her brain processed what the captors did to this person. He couldn't walk, couldn't talk, could remember _nothing…_ What did he do that was so bad anyways?

She bit her lip, and took his torso. She could feel him shaking, trying to determine what she was going to do, and she sighed sadly. He was surprisingly light. If he took off his shirt, she was probably going to see his emaciated body, along with bruises and wounds.

"I'll get you something to eat, okay?" she said gently, struggling not to do beat the walls at this very moment. He nodded, and shot her a grateful smile.


	10. Chapter 10

Cornelia crept into Nunnally's office as the morning light subtly making its way into the room. The green curtains were loosely sealed, Pendragon's views effectively blocked from sight, while the wooden floorboards moaned at the sudden alarm. That old wheelchair was still sitting there in the corner, next to the copper lamp that was attached to the walls. The entirety of the room was warm, glowing in the midst of the sun's willing revival, the paintings next to it bright in melancholy. There were neat stacks of papers surrounding the corners of her desk, some of which she had just gotten today, others from way back when. Cornelia never paid attention to the blossoms growing near the windowsill, nor did she heed the dirge-like whispers of the maids outside, who were frantically trying to warn her of their mistress's violent temper.

Cornelia stopped there, in front of Nunnally's desk. She was in her favorite green dress again, the one with white sleeves that went all the way to her wrists. Personally, Cornelia didn't think it suited her anymore; after all, Nunnally wasn't going to stay the same size forever. It felt like just yesterday, the Empress was regaining the strength in her legs, stumbling in the gardens, and tripping into some servant's arms like a newborn chick. But recently, she'd been hearing from the servants that Nunnally could go farther than they could, her stamina outweighing theirs many times over. And she'd grown a bit as well; the last time Cornelia saw her, her head could hardly make its way to the middle of the desk. Now she could slouch with ease, not even bothering to worry about her posture.

A white wool blanket tugged at her arms as the elder sister leaned over. Nunnally had been working all night to get this mess straightened out, and though she helped her with some of it, Cornelia never would've guessed there was still this much to do. She stood, then walked around to the other side. Carefully, she draped the blanket over Nunnally's still tiny shoulders, took some of the papers, and walked out.

There was no doubt that Cornelia was proud of Nunnally, and the very fact that Zero was helping her was relieving, to say the least. Though the world was incredibly big, and incredibly cruel, somehow, Nunnally managed to turn it around and bend it to her will. Lelouch's death played an enormous part as well, making stability all the easier to achieve.

Cornelia remembered being there, in the front row, for Nunnally's coronation. She remembered how proud she was, seeing her little sister there on the throne, with those piercing eyes of hers, eyes brimming with perseverance and empathy. She remembered the dazzling speech she gave, and how she managed to sway the room with her innocence. She smiled that day. It seemed that, finally, everything was going their way.

Then, without warning, it all slipped from her fingers.

To this day, Cornelia was still trying to recall what she did during that time period. She remembered how happy and shocked she was, that the SAZ massacre and Narita victims seemingly returned from the dead. She could recall the confusion the media poured out to the world; at first, it seemed like this was just another curse from Lelouch, that the dead have returned to drag down the living. Guilford himself was ready to prepare for the post-apocalyptic world, drawing and redrawing plans for the nearest safe havens and such. She wasn't influenced by the craze, however, and instead, devoted herself to searching through the papers, trying to find Euphie's name among the recovered.

The realization heartbreaking, to say the least.

After that incident, she couldn't remember anything else. When she came to, she was lying outside the Imperial Palace, in the arms of a Black Knight. She saw their home burning, and could practically see the utter contempt the masses spouted toward whoever was responsible for such a heinous crime. She remembered the reporters bombarding Nunnally with questions, about what was happening, why this was going on, if some of Lelouch's factions have returned. She never responded to any of them.

Neither Cornelia nor Schniezel were spared from the wolves. The news came so fast after all, that her unborn child had died, that Guilford was in a coma and that she herself had brushed against Death. A terrorist organization, Alfheimr, had suddenly vanished, as fast as they had appeared, with whisperings of a rebellious monarchy taking hold, all of which had nothing to do with Britannia, or the Chinese Federation, or the UFN, or any other nation Cornelia could ever hope to think of.

She sighed, holding the stack against her chest. She couldn't be that same military commander everyone revered; there was no place in this world for that. She couldn't be the elder sister that helped with political and economic affairs; Nunnally had beaten her to it. She'd grown up so much it made Cornelia feel obsolete. She couldn't even be a mother, the opportunity robbed cruelly by some horrible accident she couldn't even remember.

Once or twice, she would catch Guinevere and Carline around, doing their jobs dutifully, and she would stare at them for a bit, trying to determine whether or not they'd really given up on the throne. Sometimes, she would go to the galleries and walk along the portraits of the many Emperors and Empresses lined along the walls (though she had nothing but malice for them). She would even talk with the officials abroad, making sure things were going as planned.

But in the end, what little she does for Nunnally…amounts to nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

* * *

Kallen sat at the university cafe, typing furiously on her laptop. The deadline was tonight, and if she didn't get the term paper turned in, she might as well have given up her perfect GPA. What's more, there was a test tomorrow, so she didn't have time to indulge in her own interests at the moment. She's thanked Zero mentally for he didn't call her out, and since Oghi and Kaguya were taking care of things, she's had the opportunity to catch up on her schoolwork.

Yet, somehow, she's managed to make time for what it looked like a crippled boy at her house.

It'd already been a week since he first came here, and frankly, Kallen still had no idea what to do with him. She's let him use her bed, while she brought a few of the covers and slept on the floor, curling up in the excess warm. In truth, she didn't really mind; in fact it was a good environment to think, what without the soft surface underneath to distract her. Of course, from his expression, it seemed he would always put up a fight, and try climbing out of the bed to get to the floor. However, Kallen would have none of it; she warned him once that she would "chain him down" if she ever found him on the floor. Ever since then, he's complied with her wishes.

Kallen would've thought that hygiene would be a bit of an issue. But for one reason or another, the boy didn't need it. Even while he sat there, eating in her room, she could make out his pure, white teeth, ones that remained untouched by yellow and cavities, and she could smell his clean scent, a result from probably being in that cage for far too long. Though it has occurred to her time after time that she should, at the least, wash his face, in Kallen's opinion, he didn't need it. He was perfect the way he was.

Alongside the fact she didn't feel like violating his body.

It amazed Kallen how well she'd been able to hide him. Her mother would return from work regularly, and she would talk with her teenage daughter about the day. Once however, she did ask Kallen about the snacks missing from the cupboards, but other than that she never got suspicious. All she ever did was laugh and teased, "If you eat too much, you're gonna get fat sweetie."

A painful reminder of a certain green-haired woman.

Every single day, she would sit beside him, asking yes or no questions, trying to see if he recalled anything. And he did, to a certain extent. He couldn't remember his being in a cage, nor could he remember his assailant or the refrain vials lying near him. He didn't know his name, or his age, but he did know he was with someone. From pictures and gestures, she knew he remembered living in some place faraway, grand, important place. He responded well to classical music, and as far as she could tell, he liked reading, especially the fairytales and children's books. He would smile at the end, then turn the page to see what else was there, only to be disappointed by the lack of words on the back.

She's had to check out a lot of books from the library just to satisfy his magical curiosity.

She finished editing and sighed, relieved that the ordeal was over. The internet browser popped up on her screen, loading the final goal after weeks of preparation. She leaned back and swirled in her chair, oblivious to the boy from far away. She drummed her fingernails on the table's surface and yawned. Once in a while, a disturbing, embarrassing thought would occur to her.

She's had plenty of time for the stranger, because Zero never called her in. Nor did Nunnally.

The fiery pit found in the Chinese Federation generated international concern. Of course, everyone praised Nunnally, as well as Zero, for putting down Alfheimr. No one knew what they did, but it seemed to work, so they all continued on with their daily business, as if nothing wrong had happened over the last year. The illusion was so powerful that when rumors of Alfheimr's return began circling the audience, the media jumped in, making the depiction a lot more troublesome than it had to be.

Word had gotten out that the Empress of Britannia, as well as the Prime Minister of Japan and the CEOs of the UFN, had been taken hostage by this still unknown force. Though Nunnally was soothing those chaotic cries over, people wanted to know what Zero was going to do. There was no doubt they all revered Zero for his efforts, and some have even called him Nunnally's new consort; however, no one liked being in the dark, Kallen included. Just how long were the masses going to let Zero keep his secrets? How long will he be able to wear that mask, before he had to reveal his identity to the whole world?

How long?

Kallen, who was once beside Zero, now stood alongside the normals, trying to get information out of places that had none. Though the nations were coming together, Zero wasn't letting anyone interfere; not even the Black Knights had any say in his decisions. What was happening here? Was he trying to sort out what he was going to do? Have the perpetrators already been captured, and were now being tried secretly? What were his plans to quell the people's cries for blood and war? What of that other place, the place where Zero instigated the one-sided massacre? What happened to it? What'd everyone think of that?

There were so many questions swirling in Kallen's mind, she had to put her head down and close her eyes. Perhaps a simple nap would help her get over the fact that she was, at the moment, useless. Just a few minutes…

"KALLEN!"

She jolted upwards, and angrily turned to that familiar annoying voice. Not now. _Especially not now._ "What'd you want Gino?" she hissed.

He looked taken back, pressing against his heart with one hand while clutching the table with another. He wore the same white shirt again, with a dark blue vest around it. A green scarf draped from his neck, along with sunglasses pressed on top his regal blond hair. He had a coffee in one hand, with _Pizza Hut_ flourished on the front. The faded blue shorts were a bit dirty, and his straw sandals gave her the impression that he was going to the beach somewhere.

Then she saw the towel on his arm, with the letters, _TU_ written magnificently on the edge.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at his stupid looking blue eyes. "No way," she whispered. "You're gonna go here?"

"Already am!" he chirped happily, grabbing the seat across from her. "I enrolled at the last minute, but they said they'll let me stay, as long as I've gotten my major sorted out."

"I…I see." Kallen managed, closing her laptop. "And what is that?"

"Math."

Again, she was dumbfounded. "You're good at math?"

"Kallen, I'm not _that_ stupid," he snickered. "Besides, as long as I keep my grades up, I get half my tuition paid."

This was…an unexpected surprise. Immediately, the tension in her muscles began to dissipate, and her eyes gradually softened. The camaraderie he displayed on the battlefield was admirable; if it wasn't for him, she wouldn't have been able to take down Suzaku. Even now, with the war over, he still hovered close by her in that irritating way of his. He was annoying at times, but he was a friend she could count on. Perhaps he would know what to do with the mysterious boy in living in her room.

When she opened her mouth, her voice stopped.

Her throat constricted, and suddenly, that warm, amiable friend she imagined disappeared from her mind. Gino waited patiently for her question though, and took a sip of his coffee. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked playfully.

"How are your classes going?" she finally said lamely.

"Oh. They're fine. Anything else?"

"Professors giving you a hard time?"

"N-no, they haven't." Gino leaned forward, that joking grin disappearing within moments. "Kallen, you look kind of sick. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, of course it is. Why?"

"Well, for one thing, you're shaking."

Kallen blinked, and automatically, the cold shivers became more and more real. She hadn't realized it. Was she really that nervous? "Sorry," she whispered. "I'm getting over something."

"O-oh." That devious smile returned. He leaned over and poked her forehead. She turned to him, with curious eyes. "W-what?"

"You're lying."

"Huh?"

"You just are. You've always got that certain tone when you lie. So what is it? Anything I can help you with?"

That malevolence returned, and she couldn't help but look away, not wanting to see underneath that friendly grin he's always had. She couldn't ask him about the boy, nor could she ask him about what he thought of Lelouch. She didn't know how well Gino knew the old Zero, and by now, all he knew was to call him the Demon Emperor.

So Kallen went with her instincts. "It's nothing."

* * *

He was here again, in that same, enchanted dream.

It wasn't a bad dream, and he's had it ever since that creature came to him; even now, when his eyes were closed, his mind escaping from reality's cruel depths, he's always seen this place. He was always in a ballroom made of glass, where he could see through the white and black tiled floors, finding himself standing above the evening clouds and stars, gazing down at the colorful constellations. There were arches around him, all filled with the same cherubs and seraphim, their blank eyes neither capable or willing of matching their warm, stoney smiles. There were balconies surrounding the columns, with doorways where the darkness seemed to stretch on forever. There were red curtains shielding the stained glass along the arches, giving off a mysterious temptation that no one dared trample over. If he squinted his eyes, he could make out those same, familiar bars off in the distance, and the depression would come racing back; he was still in that cage.

Toward the left of the ballroom, there was a large grand piano, one that shimmered in the glamorous loneliness, knowing it was waiting pathetically for its master to arrive. There was a brown violin sitting next to it, along with a cello lying broken in some far off corner. Behind him, there was a huge, golden harp, the chords on the delicate instrument just as impatient as the piano.

He would sit there, on a wooden stool, with a simple, black tuxedo adorning his body. He would be wearing some kind of flower, tucked away in his left breast pocket. He didn't bother noticing it, since it would change every so often. The white gloves embraced his hand, the fabric as soft as silk, and there'd be white ruffles in his hair, planted above his right ear. From the window's reflection, he could see a young man sitting there, in the same place he was, with a thin, vertical, purple diamond drawn down his eye. It took him a few minutes to recognize that he was the one in the window, his reflection merely staring back at him with the very same confusion.

Then, the concert would begin.

Always, there'd be someone outside the bars, rapping along the metal to the rhythm of some unknown tune. He would close his eyes then, and imagine all the songs that came racing forth, from lullabies to sonatas, from rondos to canticles, from simple nursery rhymes to even the oldest of hymns. His brain would somehow form the lyrics to these melodies, and soon, it felt like he wasn't in that old, musty cage anymore; he was somewhere else, performing for someone, doing something he knew they'd be proud of. But what? What was it?

His lame legs refused to move, no matter how hard he tried. So he simply sat there, listening to the taps, happy, sad, frustrated, whatever the emotions called for. And when the musician got tired of waiting, she would enter into the fold.

She came through the windows, the celestial lights bounding off her body in its fearsome, yet shy, nature. Light green hair spilled all over her back, as she came dancing in. Her dress moved to the same wavelength the stars outside did, the ruffles along the hem coming together in some ruined memory, back when the blessing had first slipped from her cool, elegant fingers. The sleeves came all the way down to her legs, though her shoulders were bare. There was a purple ribbon strapped onto her creamy throat, with a small, withered iris in the center of it. Her bangs looked incredibly soft, and by the time she made her way inside, it felt like forever had passed. Her golden eyes were similar to his, and immediately, he felt at home, peaceful and protected.

She would come close and lean over, singing softly into his ear those strangely familiar lyrics. It felt like his mind was reminiscing the movements someone else was making, the joys someone else saw, and were now giving unto him with the utmost care. He would then shake his head, and mouth _I don't know._

She still had that same, gentle smile across her face. She would then stretch out her hand and beckon him to take it. Even when he didn't, she would still claim the tips of his fingers anyways, and press them to her lips, her cool breath tickling his skin. Normally, he wouldn't have accepted her invitation; he would patiently wait until her fingers slipped away, and listen to the repertoire she prepared that night.

However, this time was different. He was staying with another person for the very first time. It was also the first time he's remembered being so humiliated, to the point where, whenever she would walk in the room, he would stare after her, wondering just what he could possibly do to her. If she'd been feigning hospitality, or if she planned on moving away, or even if she decided to show him off to the people in those pictures, he couldn't do anything. Though Kallen seemed like a nice girl, and though she seemed incredibly open, he couldn't even bring himself to trust her, what with this painful handicap. If she decided to attack him late one night, he wouldn't know how to fight back.

He bit his lip, and, much to the woman's shock, took her hand.

He recalled the feel of air beneath his feet, of something thin shouldered between his knees. He could feel the warm sensation between his toes, and though his body cried out agonizingly, demanding he sit back down, he knew he couldn't. He felt himself shaking, but fortunately, the woman grabbed him by the waist, and steadied him, shouldering most of his weight with that one arm.

It'd only been a few moments, yet he was already out of breath. Yet he continued, searching through that void, trying to reclaim the feeling of movement, the feeling of what he had when he was walking, running, _dancing._ He gripped onto her fragile hands tightly now, trying to keep himself aloft while she was near him. Then, slowly, while she was singing, she started letting go.

The pain was searing. It blinded him hatefully, causing him to completely forget that freedom. He suddenly felt what little control he had over his legs vanish, and immediately, he began to fall. The woman fled to him, and caught him with both arms this time, holding him tightly against her chest. He blinked, his eyes ever so slowly scrutinizing the limbs beside him. What happened? He was making progress, wasn't he?

He was making progress…

He leaned against the woman heavily, determination set in his eyes. She helped him stand, and once again, that pain inflicted him. No. He wasn't going to end like this. There was no way it could possibly end like this, since so much was at stake right now.

He took a deep breath, and grabbed her arms, pulling the woman closer to him. She smirked a bit, before tugging him a bit, pulling him forth. He resisted making any expression, seeing as how anything at all would've caused her to stop. He kept on doing this, closing his eyes, trying to block out the pain, as he kept digging through the shadows of amnesia. He wasn't helpless like this. He was more. So much more.

He allowed himself to rest against her body for a little, as the two silhouettes continued their clumsy dance.


	11. Chapter 11

He wasn't waking up.

That was the first thing Kallen noticed when she got back from the university today.

Normally, when she came home, she would always see him trying to crawl out of bed with that same frustrated look on his face. No matter what she did, he would always try going out of his way to meet her, even when he looked so pathetic, nothing more than a child that refused to listen to his mother's scolding. She had to say to him over and over that she didn't mind if him being here. After all, there was just no point in all the struggle; Kallen had long accepted the fact that he couldn't walk. And there was no way he would get hurt if he was under her care, right? Absolutely no way.

However, today wasn't like any other day she knew. He lay there, like a porcelain doll, hands folded neatly on his torso, eyes closed. That old Victorian shirt was replaced with one of Naoto's sweaters, a stretched out maroon fabric Kallen used to wear to go to sleep. The blankets covered half his body, leaving the sun to pierce his face and collarbone. There was a small, tiny hearth radiating from inside, so much so the atmosphere changed readily to suit him. Though everything remained the same, Kallen couldn't help but feel something escape from him, something that enticed her so readily, like a distant, nostalgic calling. She could feel her heart breaking apart again, but she kept her mind aloft, not bothering to dwell on that sadness again.

As she sat at her desk, busily scratching out whatever useless ideas Tamaki decided to throw at her for marketing Rivalz's already famous restaurant, she found herself getting distracted over and over again; all she ever wanted to do these days was stare at the strange person. Golden specks of dust kept surrounding him like some archaic corpse, just waiting to be brought back to life once again. Particles of light danced around the tip of his long bangs, and even in this ordinary room, the entire scene looked like something from the fairytales he's always reading.

There was a tiny smile on his face. It looked like he was having a blissful dream, and Kallen couldn't help but wonder what that dream was, what was going on in that mysterious mind of his. Was he seeing his memories, a story within a story, along the edges of the text? Who was he with? What was he doing?

She sighed and stood. She sat at the edge of the bed, and stroked his cheek. "Hey," she whispered softly. "Time to wake up now."

He never responded.

She narrowed her eyes and looked at his chest. He was breathing, nor he wasn't brain dead either, since he had the strength to put up a fight these last few days. She straightened then, and looked up at the countless number of pictures, each of which carried some fragmented memory of the old regime the world so jubilantly threw away. Milly, Rivalz, Shirley; they were all living out their lives. The dead have come back, and it seemed that everything was going to be okay.

Then there was Lelouch, who stared back at her, a smile tugging at his lips.

Kallen felt the force pound against her chest, and once again, looked down at the strange man. Funny, how similar they looked. If it weren't for his golden eyes, things would've been different. She was just about to touch his face again, when she caught his eyelids fluttering, struggling to wake. Abruptly, she stood, and hurried back to her seat with a fierce blush on her cheeks.

Slowly, he sat up, rubbing the sleepiness away from his eyes. The first thing he stared up at was the window.

Kallen stiffened, but then eased into a slow smile. "Good morning. You slept well."

He turned back to her, and gave her that same, dazed look. He was still half-asleep, wasn't he? So she readily pulled up her bag and began digging around for the stories she knew he would enjoy. In her hands she held two titles, _The Husband of the Rat's Daughter,_ and _The Boy Who Drew Cats._ She'd only ever been giving him European tales, and since he was in Japan, he might as well get acquainted with the culture here.

She walked over to him and placed the books on his lap. "I've got to go soon, alright?"

He stared up at her, the haziness slowly fading. _How long?_ he seemed to ask.

"A while. I'll leave some snacks for you just in case. I'll be gone for a two days, so try not to do anything rash, alright?"

 _When are you leaving?_

His expressions were so easy to read. She could tell what question he was going to ask without the slightest efforts. She knew what he was thinking, what he was going to say, without him needing a voice, without the slightest of movements; his eyes showed her everything she needed to know. "In a few hours." she said at last. "I've gotten everything done, and Mom won't be home until later. I'll lock the door so she doesn't come in."

 _Does she know?_

"She does."

His pupils directed themselves toward the door then, and pain briefly flashed in his face. However, he nodded. Yet again, she caught that same, forlorn appearance draped across his frame. It'd been bugging her for a while now. "I'm sorry. It's just too dangerous right now."

He nodded again. His fingers tightly clenched the books, and gave Kallen a grateful grin. _Be safe,_ was what she could imagine him saying.

Kallen smiled then. "I will. Oh, and if you're still bored, you can use my laptop to watch videos, if you want."

She grabbed the thing from the desk and plopped it on his lap, along with a set of black ear buds that rolled on the floors. She turned on the screen, waiting patiently for computer to turn on. All in that moment, she couldn't help but steal a look at the man, who was sitting there, tucked safely underneath the pillows.

She seated herself beside him and pulled up her legs. "You wanna watch something?…Don't look at that; it's just something my friend looked up. No big deal."

Hurriedly, she shut down the window, flabbergasted at the indecency Gino had to pop porn onto her computer. She vowed to murder the blonde; it was his actions that earned her a very weird look from the boy beside her, making the moment even more awkward than it already was.

Still, she carried on. "Who knows? Maybe you'll find something you like here." As she directed him, his delicate hand in hers, her eyes kept searching the screen for anything pertaining entertaining. She didn't think it was safe going outside, but she also didn't want him to die of boredom. She leaned back as she watched his fingers typing rapidly along the keyboards.

Initially, the topics were just the about the books he's read. But then, as the minutes kept rolling by, the search became more and more erratic. And suddenly, Kallen didn't find herself staring at summaries anymore; she gazed at the Black Forests in Germany, the Hagia Sophia in Turkey, and even the fjords in Norway. She stole a look at his wondering eyes, as he tried implanting them in his head, before moving onto another search. She smiled then; at the very least, he's getting his fill of the world from here.

He blinked then, and settled back along with her. He turned to her with questioning eyes. Kallen looked at him. "What is it? Find something good?"

She was staring at the Demon Emperor himself.

There Lelouch was, that devilish, with insane grin on his face, as he announced to everyone that the entire world was in his hands. She looked back to the boy in alarm, who was now staring at her beloved. Automatically, she exited from the window. "I'm sorry," she whispered quietly. "Let's not watch that video."

He cocked his head, to which she responded simply, "That's none of your business."

When she left, she could feel his eyes boring through the door.

* * *

Euphemia awoke to the sounds of gunshots flying through the air.

She thew off the covers and hastily made her way out of the bedroom, only to find it locked from the outside. She managed to creak open the doors, and found a kunai knife jamming the opening. She grimaced, then rushed toward the balcony.

Sayako.

She opened the double doors, and stepped into the cool night air. She squinted her eyes, trying to take catalog of the now chaotic shadows dancing upon the rooftop. Her eyes widened, and immediately, she climbed on the railings, and proceeded to make her way to the maid.

That was impossible. That was just _impossible._ Somehow, they managed to break through the charms, and the enchantments she's casted around Horai Island are useless at this point. They weren't strong, from what she could tell, nor were they suitably prepared; after all, Sayako was winning, wasn't she?

Someone helped them from the outside.

 _Arthur's still looking for you._

"A man of your word, huh?" Euphemia whispered violently, as she took shelter against the increasingly aggressive wind. She climbed her way around the domes, the white shimmering along the edge of the moonlight, and steadied herself. Her pink, revealing nightgown was the least of her problems, and if they were perverts, it'd make things all the more easier for her.

She caught Sayako there, dancing to some haunted melody, as she threw them away from her. There were two men in front of her, with bright, terrifying smiles on their faces. Their lips were held together by stitches, which were bleeding along the lines of their skin. Their skins were pale, revealing the gut wrenching wounds the maid had given them. There were knives already deep in their stomachs, their arms torn apart by the minute. Bits of bone showed itself, and bruises dotted every inch of their faces. Yet they were still standing, smiling down at Sayako as if she were nothing more than a harmless insect. It was a condescending gaze, so the maid proceeded to cut them down even more.

They weren't very proficient at fighting, at least from what Euphemia could tell. They were clumsy, and due to loss of blood, they managed to get caught up in all of Sayako's tricks, from nearly having their intestines ripped out, to the breaking of their legs. When they were down, Sayako was on top of them, bounding their wrists with metal wires only she knew how to bend. It was a one-sided battle, and frankly, Euphemia couldn't help but feel sorry for the assailants. A pity too, since they only used their guns once. She walked over to the maid, and was careful not to lose her balance. "Sayako."

She turned, almost jolting at Euphemia's entrance. "M-milady! What are you doing out here?"

"Never mind that." Euphemia kept walking toward them with that deep, contemplative expression on her face, as she attempted to sort out the familiarity of their presences. Their same movements, the way they held themselves, though they were still so very fragile; yes, she's seen them before, but she couldn't recall where. "Take them to my room."

Sayako stared at her for a moment. "But mistress-"

"Don't worry about it," Euphemia reassured her. "Please don't tell Zero about this, alright?"

Sayako did seem hesitant, but Euphemia grabbed her hands and held them intensely. "Please. I'm begging you."

"A-alright." So she slowly led them away from the edge, shoving them with the force necessary to get them to move along. Euphemia eyed them suspiciously, then turned around. It didn't look like there were any other visitors tonight, so she followed Sayako into the balcony without hesitation. She's going to have to fix the barriers after this, and Suzaku was sensitive enough to notice the breach; she'd be shocked if he didn't at least contact someone about what happened.

Sayako shoved the intruders off the edge, causing them to land flat on the iron floors. Euphemia went after them and surveyed the area, making sure she wasn't seen. When all four were inside, she closed the doors, and turned, ignoring the bloodstained path she stood under. Sayako forced them to the floor, confident in knowing they can't get up again. Euphemia closed folded her arms across her chest. She stood in front of the darkness, and squinted her eyes.

The sewn-on smiles were already handicaps; judging from the now loose thread along their skin, it seems Sayako reassured them of their disadvantage. Not only that, but she couldn't even see their pupils. The way they fumbled in the dark, trying to get up again even though they knew it was useless, was lamentable. The men kept bumping into one another, attempting to sit up, trying to do whatever it took to try and look at their warden.

Euphemia flickered her eyes toward Sayako and nodded. The maid turned on the lights.

She froze.

There, groveling on the floor, was Lorraine and Nathaniel.

She remembered them so very well. The brilliant luster in that once lovingly caressed their faces have now turned to a dark, dark grey, and their sun kissed flesh, one that held to love like a silent, siren call, was now a light shade of blue. Their veins stuck out, with tiny red branches stretching out from their necks. They were already oxygen deprived; the curse placed upon them was killing them by the second. No matter how hard Euphemia tried easing their suffering, it would never be enough; she's familiar with Arthur's magic, so much so she felt her own pitiful self resonate along with the now proud, blooming nightmare.

She couldn't even pick out any of their original features anymore. Their hearts have broken down, to the point she could practically see them dying of depression. Messy, blood-filled tears cascaded down their cheeks. She took one step toward them, her hand stretched out. "W…wha-?"

They snapped at it with their elongated fangs, fangs that couldn't even fit inside their mouth. She took her hand back, and took one, timid step away from them. Sayako was about to intervene, when Euphemia stopped her with a glare. "Go get some rest," she ordered the woman.

"Mistress-"

"I'll contact Zero in the morning." Once again, she crouched down to their eyes, looking at every line, every cut, every bruise. The decadence had already reached its last point; with the exception of a mercy killing, there was nothing she could do for them. She flicked her eyes back at the doorway, the ninja nowhere to be seen.

She closed her eyes sorrowfully, and stood. Even she couldn't grant them that kind of favor. It must feel like she cheated them out of another reward somehow, someway. She turned around and grabbed the blankets and pillows off the bed. She hugged the covers closely against her chest, then casted them to the ground, creating a comfortable nest for the ghouls to rest in. She draped their bodies in the silk fabrics, then sat there, her back leaning against her frame, as she stared at them. It looks like they've calmed down a bit.

She didn't want to do it. She didn't want to violate them, especially when they've done so many things for her. They were apart of her personal guard, a group of loyal soldiers that would've done anything to protect the Courts and everyone in it. C.C was incredibly fond of them, and Lulu enjoyed messing with them, especially when it came to the affairs of the heart. She couldn't even begin to count how many times Lorraine and his friend had to smooth everything over. So this is what they'd been doing after she left, huh?

Euphemia leaned her head against her knees, and curled up into a tight, little ball. She felt her chest compress, and slowly, that addicting insanity started leaving her body. The shadows became a bit longer, more aggressive, as their dark claws moved toward her subjects, all the while kicking and screaming. She started whispering lies, lies that held no beauty, no meaning, no value whatsoever, trying to penetrate their minds with everything she's had. Lady Vivian was an extraordinary fairy, Euphemia will give her that much. Even when she was dead, she's still making things so very difficult for the former queen.

The memories tinkering lightly in the midst of their brains threatened to swallow her up, but Euphemia avoided them easily. She commanded them, flourishing her movements and imitating Lulu's sweet smile, all the while spewing out the curses like another song. She grabbed each and every fragment floating around in their now empty minds, and started piecing them together with growing accuracy. There were dirge like screams, agonizing, piercing protests that cut her down so faithfully, doing everything they possibly could to guard their now worthless, vulnerable shells. Unfortunately, Euphemia wasn't in any mood to put up with them at the moment.

Ah, there.

The first thing she saw was Luzhin's smug face.

Her fists clenched as she watched the official happily patting down an already corrupt doctor, who was smiling at the two men so eagerly. "I'll leave them in your hands," Luzhin said, before walking away from them.

The pain wasn't very pleasant, to say the least.

There was another fragment sliding before her. Euphemia, grabbed it before it could be swallowed up by the darkness ahead of her. Her fingers trembled as she watched the scene. There Arthur was, coming in like some avenging angel, dressed in all white, leading his own stone soldiers into the castle. She flinched at Lorraine's commands to fight, to protect everyone and everything inside. There were bodies falling left from right, with dozens of children racing for cover, trying unsuccessfully to hide from the sick, twisted man.

She bit her lip, and turned away from the hour. These moments probably took place after the fires, when she was still panicking, trying to contact C.C and Lelouch with every fiber of magic in her being. All the while, Arthur was here, instigating some kind of moral genocide, trying to show everyone what would happen had they decided to resist. The Knightmares came pouring back into the Courts, trying to fight them off, but were quickly defeated. It didn't matter how experienced they were; in the end, her soldiers couldn't keep up with Arthur's skills as a tactician. They needed Lelouch, else they'd be flying blind into the battlefields.

Lelouch.

Euphemia began frantically searching through the memories, trying to catch any glimpse of her fallen brother. Arthur probably brought Lelouch back to the Courts, right? And what about C.C? Surely they must've seen her as well! She kept looking and looking, her hands digging through the shards, searching for the fools she'd so desperately been after.

Then she saw him.

He was unconscious, her brother. His amethyst eyes were glassed over, and all the light from his pupils had gone. His clothes were ruined by the fires, and his ash-stricken face kept staring out at something, but she didn't know what. The embers singed the edge of his hair, and an air of despair came over him.

He was there, sitting at the foot of Arthur's throne.

Arthur, who was petting him like a dog.

Euphemia cast away the illusions in frustration, and without any hesitation, killed her loyal subjects.


	12. Chapter 12

Kallen kept a careful watch on the many construction workers passing her by, the scene going by smoothly as ever. The architects were busily trying to determine which design was better suited to the building's task, while the others were somewhere else, either drinking or talking with counterparts they've never even seen before. The different cultures intermingled with one another, forming an amalgamation of spiteful attitudes, ones that favored that once controversial idea of globalization and the like. The language barriers were definitely an issue, but other than that, the atmosphere as a whole was generally amiable. It was pretty cool, in Kallen's opinion.

Zero had asked her to be here, at the site of the new Babel Tower, to make sure everything was going according to plan. Though there were many tourists here, there was a lot of preparation to do, with a majority of the world waiting anxiously for the mall's debut; as a result, there were many people gathered around, watching its slow, gradual development. There were even a multitude of job fairs going on, with dozens of workers scheduled to talk with aspiring agents, salespersons, and the like.

The grand opening was to take place next week, with a special appearance from Oghi and Villetta. Even Arthur, the little cat everyone loved, was going to be there. Tamaki was catering to the masses, while Milly was up there, on the big screen, trying to do everything humanly possible to make the event seem more extravagant than it really was.

The Guren, as well as the ancient Burais and the now outdated Akatsukis, posed for their admiring audiences, with their respective pilots beside her. Even Kallen proved to be a wondrous relic, for the pilots were gazing at her, whispering to one another about how young and beautiful she was, and how this girl could have bested everyone, the infamous Knight of Zero included. Everyone marveled at the machine's special functions, and children were stroking it delicately, only to get yanked back by their obsessive mothers, chiding them for being so bold.

Yes, it was supposed to be a happy day.

Then a gun shot rang from overhead.

She looked up, and saw those very same, black Knightmares from the Chinese Federation floating high in the air, their guns aimed at the crowds. It only took a second for her to climb into the Guren, the revenge soaked within her veins, while the crowds tried making their way out of the site.

She was going to destroy them.

The Guren flew into the air, dodging the barrage of bullets suddenly aimed at her. The feathers' shields came to her with their blinding radiance, shielding her from the defunct attack, before she accelerated the thrusters. The right claws cut through the poor Knightmare and destroyed it, a single, fiery blast engulfing the surrounding area in a raging inferno. Kallen looked down, and once again, dodged those troublesome wings once again. The radio waves came on, and she narrowed her eyes then. "Get everyone out of there!" she ordered.

She didn't have time to listen to any other requests. On the ground, the Burais were shielding the citizens, all the while attempting to shoot down their powerful predators. The Akatsukis came forth, attempting to guard them with everything they had. However, they, as well, succumbed to the black Knightmares. Kallen bit her lip, and shoved the controls forward.

The radiant wave surged from the Guren's arm. She launched the slash harkens against one Knightmare before it had the chance to kill anyone else. The Knightmare was impaled on the Guren's arm, and without any effort, Kallen threw it down, effectively murdering the job fairs down below. She turned again, and raced toward the attacking armies. The arm crushed its opponents with ease. Immediately, she threw the slash harkens toward her left and right side, crushing the upcoming Knightmares nearby. There were three more aiming for her, but their speeds were so great they would have an awfully difficult time moving anywhere else. Their pattern of attack was too predictable, the offense consisting only of straight lines and bullets. She only had to rise upwards, allowing the Knightmares to destroy themselves and their pathetic pride.

She felt a jolt from the back and turned. One of the feathers was down; her defense system was going to be offline for a bit. She swirled the Guren to meet her next opponent, that very same Knightmare staring at her with different eyes. Huh; the pilot knows what they're actually doing.

Kallen smiled, and used the thrusters to get close, aiming directly for the Knightmare's torso. It automatically dodged, and instead, jammed its foot against the Guren. She grunted, but her arm managed to get to the radiant wave surger toward the enemy's arm, as it was reaching for one of its feathers. The claws grabbed onto the wrist, the familiar echoes of destruction already filling Kallen's ears. She used the other arm and attempted to tear through it.

The Knightmare was still there.

She saw the feather transform, and immediately, tried impaling the Guren. Kallen stretched its wings, and shielded herself from the attack, letting go of the machine, as she felt herself being forced away by her opponent. She looked up, and started tracking the Knightmare's movements, her fingers corresponding to the actions she will take. She readied the radiant wave shielding. The Knightmare was coming.

Then it stopped.

Kallen watched, all breath held in her body, the silence permeating through the Guren, as the grey energy wings of the Knightmare suddenly dissipated, distorting its senses through the air. The electrical current was strong; she could feel it all the way from here. In one second, the Knightmare began falling.

"No you don't," Kallen muttered. "You're not getting away that easily."

With one push, the Guren flew straight toward the falling opponent. The entire armor was down, so when Kallen pierced through its stomach, her eyes widened. She flew down, where the already abandoned construction site lay. She steadied herself and lowered the enemy Knightmare on the ground. With one single move, the Guren raised its arm and tore off the cockpit, wondering just who was behind the attack. Her eyes widened at her opponent.

It was a doll.

A doll, with a bomb strapped to it.

 _Shit._

Kallen thrust the enemy Knightmare away, and took off into the skies. The faint glimmer of the inferno appeared from the corner of her eyes, and she gritted her teeth. She looked up at the now burning skies, the white shining off the Knightmare now evident to the public.

Zero.

* * *

Suzaku gripped the controls tightly, his hand threatening to crush the switches right then and there. His eyes surveyed the wreckage below, already taking in the civilian casualties. There were enemy Knightmare parts all over the site, a good reminder of Kallen's abilities, but a lot of the decorative machines were taken out as well. Though there were no deaths, Suzaku could already determine the panic arousing from the streets, as well as the confusion of what was going on, what was happening. To the lower left corner of the screen, he saw the Guren floating there, waiting for orders.

His eyes took apart the rubble that was now determined to crush whoever stood in their way. Pieces of the enemy were scattered everywhere, and though there was a lot of blood, there were no living creatures among them. Suzaku knew they were dead, yet, at the same time, they could move, could attack, could do whatever they wished as long as they were following their king's command. He only had to dive closer to see the blacks in their chest, with a twisted, mutant version of something, something that should have been a heart. The thing was pumping desperately, trying to keep itself conscious, even though it knew it was dying.

The crowds were far behind him, and he could practically hear all the questions they had to ask, Milly included. He closed his eyes, and tried coming up with a strategy to deal with them, when a radio static jolted from his ears. He turned to the direction of the muffled voice, and narrowed his eyes. Suzaku listened hesitantly, waiting for the speaker.

"Lancelot."

Suzaku took a deep breath. "You didn't kill anyone."

"True. You think I should have?"

"This is the second time this has happened. Exactly what do you want here?"

"What?" Arthur taunted. "I can't have a bit of fun with them? Unlike you, I never intended to kill anyone here."

"I didn't think you valued life at all." he said smoothly, trying to prevent any rash anger taking control. "Considering what you did to Euphie."

"You should be thanking me old friend. If it wasn't for Guinevere's adultery, you never would have had the strength you possessed today."

Suzaku stiffened as he descended down into the construction site, with Kallen following after. "I'm going to ask again. _What do you want here?"_

There was a tense silence over the connection. Suzaku turned around warily, making sure no one was caught up in the attack, when he heard the king growl. "You know what I want."

"Euphie is off limits. I won't hesitate to destroy you if you come near her again."

"I don't want that _bitch."_

 _"_ _Then what?"_ Suzaku screamed, pounding his fists onto the controls. "You can't just come here and do what you damn well _please._ You're immaturity has costed you a number of forces and Knightmares, while we have nothing to lose. You're fighting a lost cause Arthur-"

"Just shut up," Arthur said finally. "I'm here to take back my fool; that's all. Why do you think I sent all my soldiers here in the first place?"

Fool? "What kind of ridiculous reason is that?"

"Just give me back my _court jester Lancelot,_ and I will go."

Suzaku gritted his teeth. "If I recall, you said that the last time."

"That was before you _stole_ him from me!"

"And just _who_ is it that I stole from you, Arthur?"

No answer.

"I will repeat my warning again." Suzaku stated evenly. "Interfere again, and I will kill you. This conversation is over." And with that, the quiet resumed. He sat back in his seat, rubbing his temples.

A fool, huh? He was causing all this destruction for the sake of some runaway employee. Suzaku couldn't even begin to guess the kind of mind behind that logic. Still, if Arthur was that upset, so much so he would come back to this reality and attack, that person must be incredibly special. His mind returned to that night, back when the destruction came knocking at his door, back when his best friend had gone missing.

He opened up the channel once again, and issued Kallen her orders.

"Zero!" was what he heard then.

"Q-1, make sure everyone got out safely."

"U-understood…"

"Afterwards, I want you to contact the prime minister and Lady Kaguya, and tell them to heighten security. Go back home and wait for further orders." After that, he closed off the communication lines, and moved the Lancelot away from the area.

Euphie needed to know about this.


	13. Chapter 13

"I want those Knightmares analyzed. Understood?"

"Of course."

"What did everyone else have to say on the attack?"

"Japan will handle it, and if anything else goes awry, Britannia will not hesitate to step in."

He was a bit surprised that Nunnally would even agree to that idea, as did the rest of the UFN. Did they have that much faith in him? He rubbed his eyes, and nodded. "Request an audience with the Britannian Empress, understand?"

"Yes sir." And with that, Schniezel's face disappeared from the screen, leaving Suzaku sitting back in his office, glaring at the empty conference screen. The room was big enough as it is, but the echoes alone felt like Suzaku was the only one left in the world. Even with all the chaos out there, and though he knew full well the mastermind behind the ploys, he couldn't help but feel…detached, somehow.

As for Nunnally, it seems that she's always known how to play the politics card, better than he, or even Lelouch, could ever hope. But how long could she keep up with deceiving them all? Was she at a breaking point now? Their relationship was strained, at best, but now, with Arthur lingering near, Suzaku could no longer afford to turn a blind eye to her activities. Though the maids were incredibly emotional, Suzaku had no doubt the Empress would be safe with them; he was going to send Sayako to Britannia as well, for extra measures.

Meanwhile, he was going to have to tighten security in Horai Island, as well as the shores surrounding the Chinese Federation; the report Kallen sent in made the situation even more dire than it already was. The terrorists will more than likely instigate another attack, but this time, Suzaku will be out on the front lines. He wasn't going to simply brush this aside.

There was a soft rumble surrounding the room. Calmly, Suzaku turned outwards and faced the now darkening windows, the evening rolling in dominantly amidst the now dominant darkness outside. The dim lights of Horai Island now lay in view, the metallic gleam now prominent in his eyes. There, at the docks, waited Sayako.

When the plane landed in the hanger, he met the maid outside, in the open. There was no one else around, nor were the cameras online. The island didn't have the diligent staff members it used to have, and apart from cooking and cleaning, there wasn't much else the Black Knights could do here. In fact, if anything, the island might as well have been abandoned, since it was made a domain for the presiding fairies here.

He nodded at Sayako, as he stepped out of the large carrier. The Zero mask was tucked underneath his arm, reflecting her worried frown, as well as his own anxious one. "Where is she?"

"In the gardens." she replied obediently. As he walked past her, he felt her prying eyes on his back, waiting for further orders. As usual, he complied. "I want you to go to Nunnally and help settle her fears."

"Wouldn't it be better if you go? She's very concerned for your safety, after all."

"I've already requested an audience with her, but by all means, give my regards to her. Alright?"

Sayako sighed, before finally resigning to her order. She climbed aboard the carrier herself, sealing the door behind her.

Suzaku made his way through the base, the Zero mask now on, while he came through the darkness. The wind's were harsher than normal, and the ocean kept thrashing against the eroding cliffs. There was another storm coming, but Suzaku didn't actually mind it. He welcomed it actually, the thunder and lightning, the flooding that was soon to take place here; it distracted him from the past disasters both he and Euphie have had to face.

The lights from the greenhouse were bright as usual, and the grand structure alone was enough to beckon anyone, weary and foolish alike. Within those moments, he stepped inside the building, and was greeted by the same, cool humidity that was probably attacking a majority of Southeast Asia. He only had to go in a bit farther to see Euphie sitting there, stroking the irises nearby. When Suzaku entered, she stood and went to him with alarmed eyes.

"I was attacked."

He took off his Zero mask and thrust it aside. Any hesitation vanished before the atmosphere, as he stormed to the former queen and gripped both her shoulders. "By who?" he demanded.

"My former knights," she answered, as she took his fingers and eased his concerns. "They were followed Arthur's orders."

"Euphie," he said quietly, "did you see anything else?"

To his relief, she nodded. "He's got Lelouch."

"Had," he corrected. "He…he _had_ Lelouch."

"What?"

Suzaku refused to let her go, not knowing when she was going to cooperate like this again, or when she was going to allow him to hold her this close. He was grateful for the shock he managed to incite in her. "Arthur attacked Babel Tower today. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but he did contact me." He stared her in the eyes, and bit his lip. "He wants his fool back."

Euphie stared at him in awe, seemingly not understanding any of his words. He felt her leaning more and more into his arms, and hurriedly, he went to set her down. Her eyes grew wide with surprise, her face blanching, before turning away from him completely. All doubt fled from both their minds, and finally, _finally,_ they smiled, for the first time in a while.

"He's…he's alive…" she whispered quietly.

Slowly, he released her, and sat contently in front of her, as he was pushed further into his mind. Still, there was a pestering voice nagging his mind, trying to pinpoint exactly _how_ he could have missed something as this. It'd only recently come to his attention that Arthur might've been hiding somewhere in the Courts, though he didn't think the king would be that prominent. Weren't Euphie's forces supposed to keep the place guarded? What happened anyways?

Suzaku warily gazed up at her and bit his lip. "Euphie, what did you do with your intruders?"

Immediately, her wide, innocent eyes grew distrustful once more. "Don't worry about it."

"Did they-?"

"It's too soon to tell." Hastily, she stood, brushing aside Suzaku's hands. Still, she didn't move away, and a light flush creeped along her neck. He stood alongside her, a quizzical expression on his face. "It's best if we stay together from now on," she continued.

"It's dangerous-" he started, only to be interrupted by her hand. She shot a tiny smile toward him. "It'll be dangerous if we're separated like this. Besides…it's not like Arthur to attack indiscriminately, no matter how tempting the situation is." She took a deep breath, and looked at Suzaku with clairvoyant eyes. "Where did he attack?"

"The entire Babel Tower site was unguarded," he stated. "There was no way of knowing when Arthur's Knightmares showed up, according to Schniezel." Carefully, he removed his cape and walked to the table, setting it along the cool, now stormy surface. "He didn't detect any electrical force just before the Knightmares appeared, and it didn't seem like they were using a cloaking device."

In the corner of Suzaku's eyes, Euphie's fists clenched. "That's right. The Knightmares we made aren't powered by electricity."

"What…what'd you mean?"

Euphie stared at him pointedly, without malice or hatred. "They get their energy from whatever environment they're in, as well as from my own power. Seems Arthur hasn't caught onto that yet."

Suzaku raised an eye. "So you're a battery?"

"In a way. Whoever holds the most authority in the Courts, their magic will act as a life sustaining battery for the machines to operate. Their sanities need to be strong enough to deal with something as powerful as that, and their curses can't run rampant all over their brains. I had a tough time dealing with them the first time they were introduced into our military."

Suzaku leaned against the table's edge. "How'd you make them?"

"We used resources from the Winter Courts. Well, I guess he's managed to exploit them to their fullest extent. If he's brazen enough to come here, more than likely he's already subdued our allies."

"So…so the ones that attacked you…?"

Euphie nodded. "They were apart of the royal guard. Originally, they were there to ensure the trade routes were secure. However, because they, along with most of my armies, fought against Arthur's invasion, a majority of them were taken prisoners. Their hearts were broken, so Arthur used them as puppets to send me his warning."

Suzaku's lips parted. "Their hearts were broken?"

"Yes," she continued, as she made her way to the lonely steel chair beside the table. She set herself down and stared out into the deep, dark, blue abyss that lay before them. He saw her light, elegant fingers trace along the patterns of the Zero costume, the gold seams twining the dance her fingernails kept enticing him with. "A fairy's heart is incredibly fragile, even more so than a human's. When their, or rather, when _our_ wills are broken, when everything we've lived for gets trampled on, when our lovers forsake us, when all our hopes get dashed aside, burning in the fires of hell with our screams going unheard…that is when our hearts are broken.

"We transform into the very demons we find disgusting, ugly, pathetic…everything we've cast out from our Courts becomes the very existences that even we long for. And in doing so, our beauty is stolen, our vanity broken, our pride decimated by the things we once protect. We, in essence, are nothing more than slaves to the past. We wander the earth, slaves to our sins, as we try and drag down the people we once were supposed to save.

She slid a tiny, shameful gaze toward him, before chuckling softly. "Ironic, isn't it?"

Suzaku rapidly grabbed her hands, practically crushing the delicate things. If it was like that, then why? Why she'd push him away like that? Euphie sensed his thoughts, and beat him to it. "With a fate like that, you think I want you there suffering? You've got happiness in your gasp Suzaku, and you've got somewhere you belong."

She gave him a sad smile. "You might not have a home. You might not have friends, or family, or a past you're proud of. You might not have a lover you cherish, or people you can laugh with; you might not even have a future, but you have somewhere you belong."

Of all the reckless…

"Then why?!" he suddenly screamed, forcing her off her chair. Euphie grunted painfully, as he wrapped his arms around her, refusing to let her go even once. " _You're_ the one who changed me, didn't you? _I would've gladly suffered with you! You know that!"_

"I didn't know how to deal with you." she admitted quietly.

"What kind of excuse is-?"

Euphie's empty laugh bounced back from wall to wall, endeavoring to claw its way through the nonexistent cracks, trying to get outside with all its might. " _I_ drag you into a mess _I_ made. Can you _not_ comprehend the guilt right now? Zero?"

"…so you decide to just pretend this never happened? How does that make it any different?"

They both lapsed into the quiet, as the torrents raged on. Suzaku felt his hand on her soft, silky hair, and stroked it silently, the waves rising around the edges of the shoreline. All the while, Euphie sat there, tracing her finger along the lines of his cloak. "You know, that was never my intention. But all in all, I guess that's what happened."

* * *

He was doing it.

 _He was actually doing it._

He kept gripping her wrists tightly, doing everything he could not to let her go, his legs placing one heavy footstep over the other. There they were, in that same ballroom, his mind recounting all the memories to which he wasn't helpless. He grunted painfully, the pain enough to cloud his vision, but he still kept going, doing whatever he could to keep moving, not allowing himself to rest, even for a moment's notice.

That mysterious woman helped him, as she usually did. When the pace was slow, and he seemed to be having troubles moving, her lullabies were soft and melancholic. It was the opposite when gradually, he began quickening the length, and at that time, the songs became more and more lively and memorable, kind of like an afternoon waltz in the middle of the day. Sometimes, the rhythm was sporadic, and it appeared like the song was going everywhere and nowhere at the same time, while other times, there was a smooth, monotonic pattern vibrating through the midst of the night, so much so he could easily predict the next note that was about to fall on her lips.

But though he was enamored by her touch, by now, he was becoming restless. How long had he been like this? Hours? Days? Kallen hadn't come back yet, and in all honesty, he didn't feel like browsing through streams of videos or articles, or rereading the passages in which he knew boredom would never let him return. There were places he's never seen before, sensations he couldn't feel just by sitting on a bed, watching the screen like a dead person.

So he stopped.

He took a deep breath, and slowly, began prying himself away from the woman. She kept a firm grasp on his waist, but eventually, she stepped away from him. Her eyes widened, both arms spread, as she let him go completely.

He was standing on his own.

His entire body trembled, and his legs kept screaming defiantly for him to rest. Unspoken memories kept surging forth, trying to get him to turn around, to give into something that no longer held any importance for him. He huffed, but took his first, independent steps. They were already near one of the columns; he'll go to that, then he'll see what happens after.

It was heavy, and he was violently shaking. Then, his strides began growing a bit longer, and the fires in his knees started becoming dimmer, until at last, when he reached touched the column, a satisfied smile reached his lips. He turned to the woman, who was now beaming with pride. She walked forward to him and kissed his cheek, putting a halt to the melody she was conducting just now.

A slight blush came on his face, and automatically, he backed away, only to collapse on the floor, just as he'd done many other times. He glared at her, as if trying to blame her for his sudden failure. She only laughed at the notion, and crouched down beside him.

A tiredness came on her immediately, and minute by minute, she would finally start disappearing. He would remember the smile ingrained on her face, that warm smile he'd grown to admire. She took his hand, and they would both wait until she'd disappear, and everything started crumbling before them. Her repertoire was over, and in that burst of light, he awoke to the same predicament he found himself in.

His legs were aching, as they should be. He looked around the room, at the computer on his lap, with the earbuds lying somewhere far off, at the books he's practically shoved on the ground, at the piles and piles of food he's never touched. He blinked, then reached out to take a water bottle that sat there beside him.

Well, he was a bit thirsty.


	14. Chapter 14

Nunnally sat in the Aries Villa that day, on a chair seated near a Victorian, round glass table, with that same, empty chessboard in front of her. She wore her favorite, now oversized green dress, with the sleeves coming all the way down to her knuckles, while the hem dragged itself across the floors. To the side of her head was a pink phone, one that allowed itself to glisten along the beauty of the sunlight's rays. The cool, autumn day blew along the rims of the silky golden grass. The trees were blowing away their colorful leaves, gradually surrounding her vision with life and the like. From a distance, she could see the entirety of the now rebuilt city of Pendragon, with their residents pointing their enthusiastic fingers at the glorious Britannian Palace. She might as well have just waved to them, considering how this place was a gathering for tourists.

Her thumb fingered the Queen's space, while her index finger kept tracing over to the Knight's direction, as she consciously pondered on what techniques Kaguya and Tianzi are going to play. The white spaces were moving simultaneously, with the leader of the terrorist sacrificing pawn after pawn, trying to achieve some unknown goal she had no hope of knowing. She cast her eyes at the shadow of her fingers, cautiously taking the opening to which they've laid themselves barren. Was there an enemy waiting there? No, that couldn't be; he's already spent much of his forces attacking Babel Tower, and the entire world was on guard.

Humanitarian aid has sped up to meet most ends meet, all the while situating the most underdeveloped areas underneath the wings of their former oppressors, as the leaders try and work with the locals, helpless as they were. Even with her own word, much of the UFN and the Chinese Federation, as well as the EU, were building up their armies in the event of an attack. Just yesterday, she found that most of the nations were already planning on sending Britannia the necessary funding to combat these forces, though Nunnally promptly scolded them afterwards.

She sighed and leaned back. Suzaku knows something, but for some reason, she couldn't drag it out of him. Ella was out of the loop, though she's rallying the soldiers as is, and more than likely Kallen had no idea what was going on. She couldn't go to Milly for help, because that would make the incident look more suspicious. The entire army was there at her disposal, but wouldn't that just be overkill? Jeremiah Gottwald, Sayako, Schniezel, even her own maids; anyone she's ever known was here in this world simply to keep the peace. Unless she was okay with turning Britannia against the world and remaking it into the world's only ruler once more, she felt cornered, trying to preserve the fragile era her brother had created, all the while dominating his peace with a somewhat delicate hand.

Her eyes turned to the king space before her. The her tiny palm stretched out, trying to encompass the area surrounding the imaginary piece. She'd seen her brother play against Schniezel before, and though he always lost, she knew his strategies, memorized his plays. Even when she was running around in that cute way of hers, she was always imagining Lelouch's tactics, how he applied those strategies in the real world. She knew his charisma, and the smooth lies his various personalities radiated from one another; if only she could come up with that kind of deception…

The thumb was still on the king's square, yet for some reason, the remaining four fingers kept hovering onwards. She sighed then, and leaned over, asking herself if Lelouch would've forgiven her if she decided to cheat at the game. Queens were the most powerful piece on the board, right? It'd be nice if she had four of them.

Four Queens. Four very influential people, in their own ways.

She rubbed her eyes, her brain automatically going down the list. She cast it away then, knowing how absurd it was. She's already got one Queen on the board, but at this point, she didn't even know if Kallen was Nunnally's Queen any longer (captured by society's allure, probably). Even if she somehow dragged some pawns off to the side and sent them across the board to become Queens, that alone was already suicide; when they emerge from the enemy's territory, victorious in their efforts, there'd be so many traps lying there, just waiting to ambush them. And the enemy would have to be pretty stupid to allow such an overwhelming advantage to play out; at the most, two would be all Nunnally would get.

Would Suzaku be willing to lend her some?

She heard a static from the phone. Nunnally slid her cool, amethyst eyes near it, and sighed. "Ella, what is it? What's wrong?"

Nunnally narrowed her eyes when her beloved sister didn't respond. She tore her eyes away from the chessboard. "Ella?"

No answer.

"Ella!"

"Lady Britannia."

She blinked, and slowly straightened herself. She carefully removed the phone from her ear and checked the caller ID: unknown.

She'd forgotten; it seems that Cornelia had gone to check on the military's progression with the new Knightmare frames, though she was in no condition to go. She even left her phone behind, for heaven's sakes.

The tone was threatening enough for Nunnally to decipher who it was from the other line. Once again, her eyes came back to the chessboard, and whispered, "Am I speaking with Alfheimr?"

The man chuckled. "What gave me away?"

"For one thing, your incompetence to stay hidden."

"Come now, milady," he spewed softly. "Surely _you_ don't find the attack so troublesome. After all, it's just a few wayward soldiers letting out some steam."

Nunnally bit her lip. "It's not an ideal way to relax. Ever heard of chess?"

The man's forceful laughter barked from her ear, causing her to wince. "You're jovial today, aren't you Britannia?"

"What are you-?"

"And quite impatient too! Well, let's say this. Perhaps you're wondering why an enemy of Britannia is calling at this present moment. Perhaps you're trying to decipher as to what are our motives are, correct?"

Nunnally balled her fists and stood. She started pacing, her emotions clouding her head ever so violently. "What are you implying?"

"It seems that our beloved king has been in your country before. Frankly, I was a bit surprised myself, but well, he's always had an odd taste in the strangest of things." The man giggled then, seemingly making fun of his own stupidity. "I'm sorry; I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Quite. Now then-"

"Yes well. It so happens that he's taken a very fine look at the galleries. There are a lot of pictures there, that look just like a certain someone who's decided to run away."

The realization dawned on her so easily. "And you want me to find this someone?"

The man's jubilant tone suddenly changed drastically, the amiable manner the Empress found disgusting shattering within seconds. "That's right. I take it he was a part of the Royal Family. No other reason why his portrait would be up there."

Nunnally scoffed. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Well, you should. He was an offspring of Charles zi Britannia, and-"

"You would have me then," Nunnally snapped, "along with the majority of my siblings, many of which, I remind you, are _dead."_

" _Which narrows the search down my dear,"_ the man hissed gracelessly. "By the time your little squabbles ended, our very special person was still very much alive and well."

"Are you suggesting that I-?"

"Not at all, Lady Britannia." Nunnally could practically feel the sinister tendrils from his voice slowly suffocating her, subduing her with every last word spoken from his lips. "I'm merely suggesting that you do a bit of a search, that's all."

"What makes you think I'll cooperate, after the stunt you've pulled?"

"For one thing," he chuckled happily, his smooth, friendly tone returning, much to her frustrations, "when my knife slices your cute, little throat to bits."

Nunnally's eyes widened, her hands clenching the now overwhelming chessboard. Where were her pieces? Were they all enslaved by the new order, in just that blink of an eye? "You're mad-"

"On the contrary. We're all here, and waiting."

Nunnally moved away from the table now, hastily turning, trying to see where the enemy Knightmares were, what they were plotting. There was no one, yet already she couldn't handle the suspension. Her grip tightened on the phone as she moved out into the fields, her hands desperately moving the tall grasses aside.

"Now that I have your attention, we can proceed with this _civil_ conversation." She heard him smiling from the corners of his lips, his sickly saccharine behavior making her grimace with every sound made. "I want you to understand that we mean no harm. We simply just want our court jester, and we'll be out of your hair."

"You're doing all this…just for-?"

"Unbelievable, right? But frankly, our kingdom has a need of entertainers these days."

"What a ludicrous-!"

"Now, now. Calm yourself Lady Britannia." She heard him smirk when she quieted, her already wounded pride suffering more of a beating. "His Majesty would be very happy if you could take the time to go to the royal galleries. I would like for you to find the name Mordred li Britannia, if you will."

His Majesty?

Nunnally clenched her teeth, remembering the snake that managed to sneak her way into Pendragon. Lady Vivien, she recalled, who was so very anxious to place Arthur back on the throne. She promised the same thing, to stay out of Nunnally's way, who did everything necessary, trampled on anyone she had to, if that meant bringing some insignificant tyrant down.

She took a deep breath and glared at the nonexistent person standing in front of her. "There's no such person that existed."

" _Guinevere-"_

"Doesn't exist here," she finished firmly. "The only ones with that surname are my beloved older sisters, one of whom is already _dead_. I refuse to comply with the grounds which you have laid these negotiations. Clearly, you are all rabid animals that-"

" _Lady-_

 _"_ _-need to be put down."_

"Purple eyes."

Nunnally raised her eyes. "Pardon?"

The air became neutral again. Immediately, the hostility radiating from Nunnally's body left, while the man snickered amusingly. "Mordred li Britannia. He has purple eyes and brown hair. If you would like to declare war on us, then fine, but otherwise, I would like you to give it a good look first. Alright? _Your Majesty_?"

And with that, the phone line cut off, leaving Nunnally to deal with her already pathetic assumptions.

* * *

Kallen confidently stepped through the corridors, the bright sun now shining down at her in all its scorching liveliness. Her Black Knight uniform reflected haughtily against the metallic shimmers, ready to be out of the fading sunlight. Her heels echoed throughout the hallway, while the windows reflected everyone there, now standing gathered at the window's first floors. Even from here, she could see the reporters' meticulous, painstaking attention to detail, as well as the photographers' brilliant flashes; all of them were shouting anxiously, trying to get a picture, at least, of the Black Knights who will represent Zero.

Alongside her was Todoh, who scolded her for paying any attention to the masses at all. His steel-like eyes regarded her presence cooly, as they made their way toward the Prime Minister's office. She held her breath, and followed him until they came to the front doors.

Right now, Zero was talking with the UFN and the Chinese Federation, determining what exactly was the best course of action for dealing with the terrorists, all the while cooperating with international militias to see what they would do next. He's already scheduled an audience with Nunnally, and had gone on to secure the cooperation of thousands of nations, who were just itching for war. Well, he's made himself look good while answering questions, that's for sure; seems like everyone's concentrating on this new attack now, with the the Vermillion assault completely forgotten.

Carefully, Todoh opened the doors, revealing a grand, modernized room that grabbed her eyes before she realized it. The windows were elongated, their large frame looming over Oghi's tiny body in all their gloom. To either side of her, there were staircases that trailed upwards toward the balcony on top. The Japanese flag reigned supreme, and it was situated next to the Britannian flag, as well as many others. As she walked forward, her eyes darting here and there, she caught sight of a miniature picture frame sitting on his desk, and immediately, her hardened exterior softened.

She looked up at Oghi and gave him a warm smile. "The family looks good as always."

"Yeah," he answered. He signed his signature on the paper and looked up, the dark shadows beneath his eyes causing her concern. However, satisfaction permeated from his pupil's gleam, so Kallen brushed her worry aside. He nodded at Todoh, who, in return, gave him the same greeting. "We've a message from Zero."

Oghi blinked. "What's that?"

"Tighten security around the Kyushu area and Tokyo," he stated. "He also wanted to get your permission to send additional troops to Sendai's ports, to make sure no unwanted influences interfere with international trade."

Oghi sat back in his seat and considered the thought, before looking up at Todoh. "Tell him we say thank you, but we can provide our own protection. Besides, the Black Knights are needed elsewhere; the Chinese Federation are preparing for another attack I hear."

"They are," Kallen answered obediently. "Zero has already sent them aid, and we're expecting to hear back from them soon."

"Great, I'll-" He finally caught Kallen's eyes, and chuckled a little. "I'll send the proper provisions to them soon. Tell Zero and Tianzi I said hi."

"Right." Todoh left without any other word, but Kallen stayed behind, wanting to take in a bit more of the view here. It was simply amazing, how her brother's timid, compromising friend, had managed to get all the way here. If Naoto saw this, he would completely _flip._ She laughed at the thought and regarded him playfully. "Where's Villetta?"

"Advocating women's rights," he said contently. "Or chasing Arthur. Or doing both. I'm not sure at the moment."

"How are the kids?"

"Rambunctious as ever."

There it was, the same, vulnerable smile she knew would appear the moment he let down his guard. Kallen took a deep breath. "Have the celebrations died out yet?"

Oghi's smile faded. Suddenly, that vibrant leader she'd come to admire disappeared, and a trace of that mourning subordinate was still there, left in the wake of Lelouch's death. "No, they haven't. We've had to put down a few burnings."

"Trying to find his grave?"

"Yeah." He laughed emptily. "It's gonna be hard moving on. They haven't felt like justice has been dealt yet."

"Even with the survivors from Narita and the SAZ?"

"It's actually made them a lot more bitter." Oghi slid an awkward look toward the windows outside. By now, Todoh might as well have been fighting his way to get to the Knightmare, all the while being hounded by useless questions, without the slightest hints of reluctance. Kallen felt a little bad, abandoning him like that, but in actuality, she's gotten tired of his soldierlike disposition; he needs to learn to loosen up a bit.

"There are a lot of people wondering why their loved ones haven't returned, when others have." he went on. "They keep questioning the government, convinced that we're hiding some sort of dangerous scandal from them. Just yesterday, the security guards caught a few reporters snooping around, trying to dig up information about what happened during those events."

"Aren't you curious too?"

"Well, of course I am." He swirled his chair around, folding his hands neatly on his lap. "But no one knows, I'm telling you that right now Kallen. Britannian soldiers confirmed the bodies _themselves,_ and let's not forget that _we_ were the ones who witnessed Princess Massacre's rampage." He closed his eyes. "Frankly, this all feels like a dream; no explanations, no answers, nothing at all."

Kallen narrowed her eyes. "So…so who are those spoiled brats anyways?"

Oghi shrugged. "People who just want something to take out their frustrations on."

"What if…what if there was a person that looked similar to Lelouch?"

Oghi looked up at her with curious eyes. "What?"

"I'm just saying there's a lot of people who look like him out there," she clarified, remembering the boy who was stuck in that golden cage. "What happens to them? I mean, they know better then to-"

To her dismay, he shook his head. "I've got no idea. There've been a lot of episodes where someone was physically assaulted for praising his name. The society here is still anti-Lelouch really." He sighed then. "It's practically the only thing that was holding us together. Can you blame them for clinging so tightly to that hatred?"

"But relations between nations have improved, haven't they?" she pressed.

"And that's why everyone refuses to let it go," Oghi countered finally. "Without the resentment, we'd probably go back to fighting each other again. It's ironic, I know it is. But what else can we do?"


	15. Chapter 15

Nunnally wandered through the art galleries, taking in those sorrowful, melancholic faces, all of which were captured so beautifully by some artist whose name she will never recall. There they all were, the aristocrats, in their regal outfits, staring her down just as they were born to do.

Her tiny fingers laid themselves along the canvasses, picturing every drop of paint that must've fallen to make such things, the colors that gave up their individuality just to maintain such a pretty thing, a thing that could easily be as broken as anything else in this world. Family portraits that carried no meaning, along with pathetic, political squabbles that might as well have been a death sentence for that one little branch; everything here were remnants of an old order Nunnally would rather forget.

She tilted her head when she reached the final painting. It was that of her father, who couldn't command the archaic prestigious air that once decimated the pride of the nobility, no matter how standoffish he was. His cruel, gleaming eyes stared back at Nunnally's gentle ones, and she couldn't help but hold onto it for a bit. She stiffened, then stuck out her tongue before turning away, standing amongst the variety of portraits she's managed to sort through all in one go.

Modred li Britannia, huh?

This was ridiculous. No one here fit the description Alfheimr laid out in front of her, aside from she and her brother, and the only ones with the surname "li Britannia" were Euphie and Ella, both of whom, the last time Nunnally checked, weren't male. She put her hands on her hips, and once again, scanned the entirety of the elongated corridor. Well, whoever this person was, they probably weren't acknowledged by the Britannian Imperial Family, and had to live in secrecy. Either that, or they disappeared the moment they were born, so there wasn't any time to erect a portrait. Were they really apart of the royal family, or is this all just a hoax to distract everyone from Alfheimr's real goal?

She sighed, and gazed up again at the scenes in front of her. Her legs started to walk through the hallways, much to her frustration. Her pink dress followed suit, and her bare feet swept up the nonexistent dust along her heels. It's true that Lady Vivien spent her time here in Pendragon, but Nunnally didn't think she'd bring Arthur with her, and she certainly didn't believe that she would have the time to wander the Imperial Palace.

Then again, Vivien _did_ seem psychotic enough to do everything for the sake of one person's happiness, even if it meant trampling on others. She practically had no plan for herself, since every fiber of her being was devoted solely to her King. Well, if the servant was like that, the master was more than likely to be far worse.

The standing armies have already been raised, and, much to her disappointment, some of the funds toward globalization efforts have been diverted to military defense. Global security has become an issue, something she never thought would have happened, or at least, not as quickly as this; as a result, old enemies were slowly beginning to regroup and reform, advocating the advancements in weaponry and the F.L.E.I.J.A bomb in order to wipe out the perceived terrorists in one go. Her maids have been working around the clock trying to get all the paperwork done, and Cornelia's rapid mobilization was nowhere near enough to guard the Empress of Britannia while she was working.

This was an incredibly troublesome situation to be in.

"Your Majesty?"

Nunnally's eyes widened at his voice and turned. She found Suzaku standing there in his full Zero costume, helmet and everything. Yet even with the mask on, she could see his now secretive expression plastered all over his face. His professional, cold stance made her wonder if this was the same person from before. But she allowed her lips to ease into a slow, relaxed smile. "How are you Zero?" she greeted.

"I've seen better days. And you?"

"Likewise." She walked closer to Suzaku, the physical distance diminishing with every step. "I've cleared everyone out of the galleries, so its just us for the time being."

"I know. However, there's an urgent matter that requires both of our attention. I don't plan on staying long either."

His harsh tone caused her to flinch, but she fought down her confusion. No matter what, he was her friend, right? He wouldn't do anything without her consulting her first, lest the world wonder if the alliances between the UFN and Britannia was breaking down; he wouldn't risk that, would he?

She straightened, and stared at him with clairvoyant eyes. "Well then, please tell me what you're here for. I hope to be of some assistance to you."

Suzaku nodded. "The Black Knights are dissecting the enemy Knightmares from the Babel Tower incident. I would like your Highness to provide additional funding to developing and improving their current technologies, then, when they're done, distribute them to the allies."

She blinked. They got a hold of the enemy's weaponry already? "Y-yes. I'll make the proper arrangements as soon as possible. Is Schniezel leading the project?"

"He is. Also, regarding your maids, I would also appreciate it if you were protected by them from now on."

Nunnally raised a delicate eyebrow. "Cornelia li Britannia is seeing to my security. I trust her judgment." The brief memory of Ella attacking her flashed her mind, but she brushed it aside, refusing to dwell on it any further. "You don't have to worry about me."

"With all due respect your Majesty," Suzaku continued. "By now, you should already know who we're dealing with. They've already attacked you twice, first in Britannia then in the Chinese Federation. Which reminds me," his face trailed down to her gunshot wound, "does it still hurt?"

She covered her side with her hand, and smiled reassuringly. "It's fine. Back to the topic at hand-"

"Yes. I've also heard that you refused aid from other countries. Is that right?"

She narrowed her eyes. "It is."

"Nunnally-"

"I'll be fine," she stated solidly. "I've got more than enough soldiers here to protect me. Right now, there are other countries that need our help. Wouldn't it be more practical to send aid to them? We've no idea where Alfheimr is going to attack-"

"Those countries won't be attacked." he answered confidently.

Her patience was wearing thin. "How can you be so sure?" she pressed.

"Because that's not the type of person we're dealing with now."

Nunnally kept herself calm. "Suzaku, are you hiding anything from me?" She walked toward him deliberately, and kept her eyes trained at the mask. "Is there anything I should know about?"

Hesitation permeated from his entire frame. The entire scene looked so very suspicious, before finally, Suzaku looked down at her, quelling some unknown turbulence hammering at her head. "No," he said at last.

She bit her lip, and reached down for his hand. When his fingers were in her hands, she tightened her grip and concentrated on his pulse, his temperature. "Nothing at all that concerns me?"

"No."

The two stood there for minutes on end, as Nunnally kept her frustrations down, and endeavored to not lose control over her emotions when she realized he was telling the truth. She allowed his fingers to slip from her grasp, and stared up at him. "Alfheimr contacted me the other day."

The surprise was clearly evident from the silence. She could hear Suzaku's mind turning, trying to come up with an appropriate response. She had to force down a satisfied giggle when all he said was, "What?"

She regarded him evenly and turned around, gesturing him forth. The two shadows began strolling through the artwork, through the creations Nunnally preferred not to look at for the remainder of the afternoon. "They called me." she explained. "They were trying to find someone."

She felt a sharp tug on her arm, followed by Suzaku's worried voice. "What'd they say?"

"They could easily kill me now if they wanted to."

Before he could say anything more, she held up her hand, and forced him to stop. "I'm a little curious though," she said then, in that same, tranquil timbre. "They told me the person they were seeking was in the Britannian royal family, and that his portrait was here. Once we find that person and return them, they said Alfheimr would leave us alone. At this point though, I find that hard to believe."

Suzaku loosened his grip, his arm falling emptily to his side. "I'm sorry…for my rude behavior-"

"It's fine," she replied, allowing some remnant of their old afternoons to return. "Anyways, if they're going to cause this much damage, I don't want to encourage them."

He cleared his throat. She could see him smiling at her from behind that mask. "Did they tell you anything about the person they were looking for?"

She blinked. "They said his name was Mordred li Britannia."

"Mordred…huh…"

Nunnally shrugged. "He was a court jester, but honestly, I can see why he would run away." She closed her eyes and continued walking, drifting softly through the corridors. "There's no one like that here. Unless, of course, the fool was going by an alias. It'd be difficult we to find him then."

"Do you believe this is all just a ruse?"

She shook her head. "Vivien was the same way. Why should I expect Arthur to be any different?"

A simple thought occurred to her then, and Nunnally turned to examine her companion, who was following her ever so diligently. The similarities were so uncanny, and sometimes, Nunnally would often wonder if she was in the presence of yet another older brother, one who cared genuinely for her safety.

Another caring, lying older brother.

"Suzaku," Nunnally began, "is Euphie still alive?"

She could hear his painful breath, and regretted asking such a question. "No. She's dead. I saw it personally.

She closed her eyes. "What about Lelouch?"

"Y-yes. Lelouch too."

Nunnally turned away, and continued down the gallery walk. "I see."

* * *

She found the living room empty as usual, the serene quiet laying its splendor out before her. Chinese take-out was on the table, a courtesy from her daughter while she was away with the Black Knights. She couldn't help but smile a little, as she set down her bag and proceeded to make her way into the petite, elegant residence, a home in which she, to be perfectly clear, bought with her own salary. She laughed at her silliness and shut the door behind her.

Ms. Kozuki had just come home from a long day of work. The malls were crowded today, and there were so many people entering the store that she had a hard time keeping track of which customer needed what, which shirt they wanted to buy, what coupon they wanted to use; by the time her shift was over, the manager apologized over and over how sorry he was. Well, it can't be helped; it was a busy day, and they were understaffed. Not that she minded; she enjoyed her job, but at the very least, she could get a good paycheck from all of this. And who knows? Maybe she could buy that dress Kallen has always wanted. Oh, and there was the winter yukata festival too…

Her dark brown hair was in disarray, and her uniform, which consisted of a long, black dress with a tiny, grey jacket hanging over it, clung comfortably to her skin, as any other piece of clothing would have. She sat down at the table and started eating, her tongue savoring the seasoning the noodles gave to her. She sighed, and slouched in her seat, happily enjoying her time alone, away from the commotion of city life and such. So much to do, so little time; it was rare that Ms. Kozuki got a breather like this.

She was constantly distracted, with those painful memories suppressed by whatever schedule entered her heart long before the new regime ruled. From time to time, she would notice Naoto's absence, or Kallen's discomfort. She would even realize her status, and wonder where her husband was right now, what he was doing, whether he was alright or not. The questions would fill up her mind, and she would sit there, even at this late hour, pondering on the answers, as if they would just come to her if she thought about them hard enough. Yes, she did still love him, and it'd be nice if he would come here again, if only to see what a lovely woman Kallen had become.

It was fanciful thought, but by no means would she share it with her daughter; Kallen, after all, might still harbor ill will toward her father.

Well, that can't be helped, can it?

She finished the last of her noodles, and stood. She stuffed the plastic fork in the container and went to the trash can to throw it away. She didn't make much of a mess, and she was too lazy anyways; she'll clean it up later.

Throughout the evening, her eyes kept sliding to Kallen's bedroom door.

Whenever she saw it, she was reminded of how odd Kallen had been acting over the past few weeks. At first, Ms. Kozuki thought it was just the average teenager just acting as they normally would, overeating and oversleeping. She even welcomed Kallen's change of behavior, considering the fact that she used to be so serious all the time.

Initially, it was just a few snacks missing from the cupboards and refrigerator, and many times over Ms. Kozuki would scold Kallen about her eating habits. But later random water bottles would disappear here and there, and now, even the extra covers they'd have for guests would vanish, taken into Kallen's bedroom without any hopes of returning.

That wasn't even the weird part. Whenever Ms. Kozuki was home, she would always hear weird noises coming from inside that room, ranging from a laptop playing music to books being tossed aside to even someone stumbling onto the floor. Whenever she tried asking Kallen about these strange circumstances, her daughter would always try and hide it under the thinly veiled disguised excuses of "sorry about that" or "it's just your imagination."

And what was so funny about the entire situation was how Kallen would lock her door whenever she went out. She wouldn't open that door for anyone, and she promptly told her mother to stay away from her room. "I'll clean it up," she'd say before going out.

Now, normally Ms. Kozuki would bide her time and wait for the predicament to end. She would be patient with her daughter and pretend that nothing was wrong, even if, just for a single moment, she suspected something amiss. Kallen was old enough now. She's fought alongside the Black Knights, and she's hanging around good, mature friends. At any rate, it's probably something Ms. Kozuki shouldn't even be worried about.

But still…

Carefully, she opened a drawer and got a small spoon in her hand. She looked up and made her way toward the door. Ever since that terrorist attack last weekend, Kallen has practically been barred from going home, by both the Black Knights and the university. She called yesterday, saying she wouldn't even be back this week either. Thankfully, she's getting all her assignments done, and her professors, of course, have given her their permission to leave, as long as she came back with something worth while to tell everyone…

The guilt was already treading on Ms. Kozuki's heart.

However, she will not be deterred. Not this time, anyways. She was a mother, and she needed to act like one for her daughter's sake. So she placed herself in front of her daughter's bedroom and placed the tip of the spoon gently into the door knob. Gently, she turned it, and creaked open the door.

The first she saw was a boy, around Kallen's age, sitting at the edge of her bed, with a determined look on his face.

She gaped in surprise.

She rubbed her eyes repeatedly.

No, he… he was still there.

Her eyes trailed down to the pile of ramen noodles, chips, and even canned goods, sitting at the foot of Kallen's bed, all of which were unopened. Five water bottles sat on the chair near her pillow, along with napkins, bandages, and some other nonsense she couldn't make out. Her laptop was discarded behind the boy's thigh, with earbuds dangling from the covers like so. There were two books thrown onto the floor, the spines already bending from the pressure, along with old research papers Ms. Kozuki couldn't even begin to recognize. She blinked, then looked up again.

He didn't noticed her. He simply closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Slowly, he started to stand.

It wouldn't look like much, and in all honesty, Ms. Kozuki thought he was tired, exceptionally tired. However, when she saw his entire body trembling, and his face trying to mask an expression of pain, her eyes widened, and the realization immediately dawned on her. He only took a few steps when she lunged forward, knowing full well he was about to collapse underneath his own weight.

She caught him when he fell, and the frustration radiated from his being. The surprise was present in her voice, but her was attention turned not to his unexpected visit, but to his legs, who were still struggling to move. The boy looked up, astonished by Ms. Kozuki's appearance.

She was a bit torn at this point, but her kind nature overtook her. "Are…are you alright?"

Slowly, he nodded.

To her shock, he gripped her arms tightly, and proceeded to try and stand again. Ms. Kozuki was about to protest, his constant shivering arousing both her interest and concern, but it didn't look like he was going to listen. And with a great huff, he picked himself up, steadying himself against the heels of his feet. He blinked; the pain probably wasn't as bad as before.

She never let go of him, not for a second. Ms. Kozuki sighed, and started leading him out of the room, staring at the focus in his expression, at the concentration in his eyes. She got a better look at him then; bright, golden orbs kept staring at the floor, with a warmth she hadn't felt in a long time, and silky, dark brown hair that was soft enough for anyone to touch, despite their dark look. Was that Naoto's old sweater he was wearing?

She tore her attention away from the boy's appearance, and looked backwards, trying to see where she was going. "Are you a friend of Kallen's?" she pressed then.

From the corner of her eyes, the boy looked up. Warily, he nodded.

"What's your name? How'd you get in here?"

He simply shook his head.

Slowly, Ms. Kozuki turned toward him with protective eyes. His condition…seemed very familiar. Should she expect anything more from him? "What's your name?" she repeated.

Again, he shook his head.

She narrowed her eyes, and took a threatening step forward. "Do you know why the door was locked?"

The same response.

Ms. Kozuki pressed her hand against the boy's head. He didn't have a fever, but he was disoriented enough to let her know not to let him out of her sight. She let him go and walked over to the kitchen table. When she turned, she found him standing there timidly, trying to get a feel for his new surroundings. She gestured him over, and reluctantly, he obeyed.

It took the boy a while to get to the table. It didn't look like he was acting, nor did he seem very familiar with their house. His eyes were big and open, so much so she could pretty much tell what he was thinking, with all that confusion swirling around that handsome head of his. He kept looking around, scrutinizing everything here, like he was on some other planet. He kept himself from doing anything, hands in his lap, but at this point, the curiosity became him.

Ms. Kozuki sat directly across from him, and trained her questions on his confusion. "Can you talk?"

He jolted and stared straight at her with alert eyes. He shook his head. _No._

"Did Kallen bring you here?"

He nodded. _Yes._

"Can you tell me why?"

 _No._

She sighed. The snacks on the floor, the water bottles, the laptop…did he intend on staying here? Was he homeless? Did he have someone waiting for him? Was he on the run?

But there was yet another issue she needed to resolve; her daughter, after all, was very unpredictable. "Do you know your name?"

 _No._

"Do you remember anything?"

She saw him clutch his sleeve. To her horror, he shook his head.

 _No._


	16. Chapter 16

The black dress tugged at her arms, while the hem dragged around the lower part of her thighs, the ruffles tickling her bare flesh sos readily. Her hair was in their usual buns, the pink strands falling down her collarbone and spilling onto the floor. A dark pink, see-through collar adorned her throat, with a tiny Celtic cross swinging from the center.

Euphemia sat the large, rounded table inside that lonely conference room. She could barely make out the silent hum of the engines outside as shifted through the stolen files with her thumb. Her eyes swiftly scanning through the labels while mentally sorting out every possible detail, known and unknown. She formed three messy piles in the back of her brain, clumps she didn't know when she'll be returning to. Near her, a box of hijacked documents were crying out for attention, waiting to be examined before being callously thrown away. One particular file caught her interest, however.

"Euphie?"

She looked up, surprised at Suzaku's sudden entrance. The very fact he was in the Zero costume added to her astonishment, but she brushed it aside when she hopped off the table and approached him casually. He took off the mask, revealing all those graceful human characteristics she'd come to enjoy. He gave a slightly disapproving shake. "You know, we have databases."

"Your databases are flawed."

He frowned. "Flawed?"

"Says you died."

He gave her a tiny smile, unhindered by the harsh insult. "Something wrong?"

She opened the manila folder and showed it to him, revealing only two papers which told the old Zero's, or rather Lelouch's, story. The word "traitor" was scribbled all over the contents, along with angrily scrawled Kanji symbols Euphemia would rather not understand. From what she could tell, this wasn't Suzaku's handwriting, and judging from his expression, he didn't even know about the file's existence until now.

Gently, he took the file from her hands and browsed what little contents it had. It looked like he expected its unfair judgement, and accepted whatever it had to say. He shut the file and placed it near the desk in front of them. Euphemia leaned in. "What is it?"

"It's um…it's nothing."

"Suzaku, that's my brother they're talking about."

He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and sighed. "It's something that…both me and Lelouch had to-."

Something inside her mind clicked. She sat back in one of the chairs and crossed her legs. "Are you referring to the Zero Requiem?"

His eyes widened. "How'd you-?"

She smiled painfully, the memories guiding her through the various emotions crossing her heart. "Lelouch used to be _my_ fool actually, before Arthur came along."

Suzaku turned toward her, lips slightly parted. "He…he told you?"

"I have my ways."

She closed her eyes then. He only had to know about Lelouch, but C.C had nothing to do with this; it wouldn't be fair to implicate her as well. "It was an incredibly good farce," she answered. "He'd play the part of a court jester, so he could get information without anyone knowing. No one suspects an idiot for being a spy, after all. It was my idea really," she added sheepishly.

She grimaced at the adoration manifesting in his eyes. She could catch tiny glimpses of her knight from way back when, during a time when things weren't as complicated as this. She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling and chuckled. "What's wrong? Didn't think I was that devious?"

"No… I'm surprised Lelouch consented to that kind of thing."

"Ah, you should have see him. He didn't have to lie, since he was good at manipulating the truth. At the same time, he was naive; wherever he went, whenever he performed, not a single worry would cross his mind. It was like he was living in some wonderful dream. Couldn't help but wonder what went on in his mind every once in a while."

She looked down at her own, empty hand. She remembered the afternoons clearly, of how Lelouch would appear out of nowhere, conducting playfulness and charisma into his personality, molding it into something people enjoyed seeing. He would sit at the armrest of her throne, C.C included, giving her advice on what to do, how to go about things in that twisted game of politics. He was a talented, persuasive man, and when coupled with C.C, he was unstoppable; he could get anyone to believe anything without the use of force. He was brilliant, and innocent, and honest.

Why she suppressed him, Euphie still couldn't recall the reason.

Suzaku's palm came on top of hers. "We'll get him back."

Euphemia looked away uncertainly. "Quite a promise my knight."

Suzaku smirked, covering that one palm with both his hands. "That's why I said _we."_

Euphemia sighed, and resigned herself to his presence. The topic was already uncomfortable as it was, glimpsing into mistakes she regretted, arguments she wished she never got in. "Speaking of which, I'm sorry you had to do that to Nunna, especially if she was threatened like that. But Alfheimr is our problem, no one else's."

His grasp tightened. "Know anyone by the name?"

"As of this point, there are a lot of culprits that come to mind." she replied thoughtfully. "Not everyone agreed with my policies, and for the dissenters who tried rebelling, both Lelouch and dealt with them accordingly. I highly doubt that there's a single aristocrat who doesn't want my head on a platter."

"So while you were away-"

"Arthur led them," she finished easily. "Moving on; if Alfheimr had the nerve to give the Empress of Britannia a death threat, they're probably going after Britannia's allies."

"Declaring war on the whole world then? A bit much."

It is, but Euphemia had Arthur's mind mapped out, laid out in front of her like an organized, simple blueprint, with a majority of the directions pointing towards one problem. Then again, it was her confidence that costed her so much already, and she wasn't ready to admit that it was all she had to go off of. "He's too original, so he won't attack the Vermillion or Pendragon again, and I doubt he's very keen on destroying Shinjuku."

"Do you think he'll go for the major cities?"

"Yes. Tokyo is still a target, considering the fact that Kanime Island is situated there. London as well, because of the Stonehenge. Anywhere else with a large, blissful, arrogant population will do."

"Nunnally hasn't with the representatives from the EU, but Oghi managed to get started with the anti-terrorist measures. He'll be fine, even if he is a bit lax."

"I'll head to England then, to make sure Nunnally is alright." Euphemia fell silent, the very depiction of her naive little sister forcing its way through her mind. She was so small, so fragile, and it seemed like anything could break her. "I don't think Arthur meant to call Nunnally."

"So it's probably one of those higher officials you talked about, correct?"

"Yes. The king is making life a living hell for them, and they're so desperate to avoid his wrath they're going to make sloppy mistakes like that in order to appease him. There's no doubt in my mind they'll be executed in a few days."

Suzaku narrowed his eyes. "That's a risky move, getting rid of his own soldiers like that. He could, at the very least, use them as bait." His eyes slide to hers, with a cautious frown alongside his lips. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Where then?" she asked herself. "What time, what location?"

When the quiet reigned, Euphemia bit the inside of her cheeks and stared out at the vast conference room. The skies were below them, with clouds seeming lazily roll on by, not bothered by the nightmares conducted from within the carrier. Even now, when she felt like her former tormentor had laid out a trail for her to follow, a path that could lead to his inevitable downfall, she had no idea what to do. "He's already got us at a disadvantage. He can come and go from this world any time he pleases. Bodies for an army, obsession as a motive, unlimited power that demands no price…"

Suzaku nudged her gently, thus releasing her from her apprehensions. The liveliness he carried around with him was then replaced by something older, crueler, with the shadows beneath his eyes growing more and more prominent by the second. "What will happen when you depose him again? Will you retake the Courts?"

Euphemia merely shrugged. "I have no idea."

* * *

The gardens were just as magnificent as he remembered them; small ponds were scattered all over, their glistening surfaces providing an artistic reflection that couldn't possibly be captured by trivial, mundane hands alone. Stone angels hovered protectively over the roses and lilies, while unending roots from the oaks kept twisting the already painful path, endeavoring to form a kind of wooden setting in which only the purest of stories dwelled in. That old celtic cross was still there, along with an unmarked tombstone that served little to no purpose in this refuge. And when he looked up, staring ahead at those troublesome mountains and villages down below, he couldn't help but note how nice it would be to have them leveled.

Luzhin was summoned per requested by King Arthur. He lamented for a short while, before dragging himself to the gardens, however beautiful they were. He'd been dealing with the remnants of the uprisings, all of which were now easy to put down, and was just signing the last of the death certificates, since of course, they were to be beheaded today. The ovens were already lit, ready for the long-awaited bodies to appear; he was even considering feeding that meat to the king, who was more than once requested for such delicacies.

He caught the king sitting in the gazebos, watching the empty space with those observant, decadent eyes of his, while twirling a tiny iris in his hand. Their gazes met briefly, before Luzhin turned away. He bowed. "Your Highness," he whispered softly.

"Have you made any progress?"

"N-no, sir," he answered shamefully, the very reality forcing all the breath out of his body. "As your orders, the enemy Knightmares are in Lancelot's hands. But our signals aren't picking up anything, aside from a couple of stray humans playing with that trash." He straightened, and stared at Arthur with confused eyes. "Your Majesty, we've developed far more advanced technologies-"

"I know."

"What was the point of giving them our weapons though? Sooner or later, Lancelot will know how to operate them, and will turn them into his own-"

"That's what we need, Luzhin."

He blinked. "Your Majesty?"

The king sighed irritatingly, and turned to Luzhin with a malicious glare, one that immediately made him regret questioning the illogical plan at all. "I don't believe anything Lancelot or Guinevere has to say regarding the matter. If they choose to fight back on the battlefield, it will give us an opportunity to attack from the rear. All four corners of the globe will be steeped in war, everything soaked in crimson and corpses, with their sins laid out for the entirety of the masses to see."

He stroked the iris's petal with one finger, forcefully wringing it between the scopes of his fingernails. Luzhin couldn't help but stare at the display, all the while pondering on his Majesty's words. "When that happens, he'll come out, engulfed in rage and anger and hate. He'll be so beautifully predictable, and all we'll have to do is come down and take him back." He chuckled lightly, lightly brushing the flower against his lips. "A pity he's there; seems he'll have to learn the hard way how merciless the world can be."

Luzhin shifted his weight from one leg to the other, carefully looking away. "How exactly are you planning on doing that milord?"

"He's incredibly innocent," Arthur explained, "and he has a very unique gift of winning people over. Then again, he tends to get very close to the people he's with, so it can also act as a very cute weakness."

"But your Highness-"

"Let me finish," Arthur interrupted lazily, causing Luzhin to fall silent. He smirked satisfyingly, before continuing. "The Black Knights are a global organization, so there's no doubt in my mind he's already made contact with them." His eyes flickered annoying toward the official, and scoffed when Luzhin still couldn't understand. "By the way, I don't appreciate the stunt you pulled the other day."

He blinked. "P-pardon, milord?"

"Need I remind you he's not here? There's no need for you to replace him with some pathetic copy. Do I make myself clear?"

Luzhin clutched his sleeves tightly, doing whatever he could to quell the rising panic in his chest. He dared not move from the spot, to which he was already frozen. He barely managed a nod. "Y-yes sir."

"How is she doing by the way?"

The official stiffened, as he stared at the king, who was now plucking away the some miracle, he cleared away his past hesitation. "Fine milord," he answered curtly.

He frowned. "Still unsatisfied?"

"Yes, very much so."

"What about the girl? How is she?"

"She isn't doing anything, your Highness. She refuses to eat or drink, and whenever one of our soldiers comes near, she'll attack. Milord, if I may, what use do you have for that particular creature?"

The king thrust the iris away. "What use are executions, Luzhin?"

"To…to rid the world of trash and scum."

"There's your answer."

* * *

Rivalz wiped the sweat away from his forehead, trying to keep up with whatever orders were coming his way. The assistants were busily endeavoring to match his fast pace, his nimble hands weaving their way through the plethora of forgotten meats lying on the table, the chopped up vegetables that have yet to make it to the pot, the piles of unwashed dishes that needed to be cleaned. Frantically, his eyes kept darting around the kitchen, trying to see if there was anyone nearby that would help him out.

"Hey!" He snapped his fingers, and immediately, a timid bus boy peeked up, his bright, eager face a refuge among the economic storm. Rivalz didn't even need to say anything more; the new employee simply stopped whatever he was doing, and go to the area that needed the most work. He did the task diligently, and without complaint, knowing full well what would happen if he neglected even the slightest morsel of food. Rivalz settled back into his bustling routine, anxiously wondering why he decided to open up a restaurant to begin with.

So naturally, by the time the afternoon rush hour was over, he couldn't help but collapse at the front desk, soon after relieving the tired secretary away from the restaurant. His eyes gazed out at the remaining guests, and sighed then, his head buried in his arms.

It'd only been a couple of weeks after the grand opening, and already the restaurant had a reputation. Apparently, a lot of high profile people have eaten here, and since they complimented the place, the restaurant managed to look more glamorous than Rivalz had originally intended. Of course, no one took the rumors seriously, but they did attract a lot of customers from every nation. It looks like he didn't need Shirley's fashion show after all.

Not that he didn't want her to come; he, like everyone else, wanted to see her again. He was curious about what she was working on, how London was coming along. Kallen was in college too, wasn't she, at TU? Meanwhile, Milly nowadays was all over the country, doing live interviews and shows all in one go; the Prez has practically got a monopoly on media at this point. Nina was continuing her research somewhere in some other country, though he didn't know what. Even tiny Arthur, the cat who couldn't help but worm his way into everyone's hearts, was now living with the Prime Minister, influencing political decisions with his fickle cuteness.

All his friends were out in the world, traveling anywhere and everywhere with laughter tailing them, while he was stuck here, tending to the very strangers whose lives he could only hope to catch a glimpse at. There was no more prejudice in the world, nothing to stop them from doing what they want, what they should. And really, who wouldn't take advantage of that? If anything, it'd be weird if they weren't doing all kinds of cool stuff with their time.

And it was that experience that justified his envy.

"Hey, Rivalz!"

He jumped at the cheery voice, and looked up groggily. He recognized those small, blond braids, as well as that socially awkward way in which the person in front of him conducted himself. Rivalz dragged himself from the table, and gave Gino a weary smile. "Hey."

"Whoa, look at you." He poked the boy's head with one finger. "You look just like a blob."

"Wow. Didn't think you'd be _that_ clueless." But he set himself up anyways, and stole a quick look outside; not a lot people on the streets. Hopefully, it'll stay that way. "Busy day, you know?"

"So…are you on a lunch break or…?"

"Table for one?"

"No. I wanna make a reservation."

Rivalz laughed slightly. "Finally going for it, huh?"

"Yeah. When Kallen gets back, I'm planning on asking her." The blonde drummed his hands excitedly on the countertop, that enthusiastic smile dancing on his lips. "You wouldn't mind, right?"

"But are you sure you want to reserve it now? I mean, isn't it a little risky to…you know…"

Gino shrugged. "If she turns me down, I'll cancel it."

Rivalz blinked. "Ouch."

"What?" he asked jokingly. " _You_ wanna be my date?"

"Good point." Rivalz opened the drawer and pulled out a notepad and pen. "Next Friday?"

Gino stared at him for a moment, scrutinizing his unfazed expression. "Psychic?"

"No. You're just easy to read. Seven?"

He ruffled Rivalz's hair forcefully. Before he could say anything, Gino waved happily toward him, then sped out the door.


	17. Chapter 17

"You're…you're sure?"

The officer nodded, as she laid out the his fingerprints in front of Ms. Kozuki. The lamp's broken bulb made the patterns hard to see, and though she never had good eyesight to begin with, Ms. Kozuki did hope the officer would find an undeniably strong match between the boy and the countless number of victims, prisoners, suspects, _anyone_. "I'm sure." she replied, much to the mother'd dismay. "The guy was never fingerprinted, and DNA samples don't match anyone from the databases. He hasn't shown up in the missing persons files either."

Ms. Kozuki sighed then, having no choice but to accept the verdict. The tiny, musty room gave an old, ancient feel within the already elderly air, followed by a familial concern that burned from the entirety of the moments surrounding the two. A tiny window lay off to Ms. Kozuki's side, portraying the depressing blue downpour that came with the seasonal storms. Old files, ruined surrounded her, splayed messily onto the floor, creating a sort of nest that even she found amusing; some were from cold cases, others from completed profiles that were forgotten by the janitor. There was a grey file cabinet that carried the lists of a multitude of names from behind the officer, as well as a computer that was busily working through every hidden document that could possibly have existed on the Internet, public and private.

Right next to Ms. Kozuki sat the boy, who kept staring everywhere, with the somewhat eternal curiosity never relinquishing from his eyes.

He was wearing simple grey jeans this time, and a long sleeved black sweater she managed to fish out from her husband's old, discarded "junk." He looked so small and emaciated and vulnerable in that garb, to the point where she didn't even know if she _wanted_ to take him along, for fear the thunder would scare the poor creature witless.

No; in fact he was attracted to that kind of thing, never cowering nor crying like Kallen did when she was little. But in a way, he did look like a child, a tiny thing who was taking their first steps out into this big, beautiful world, and Ms. Kozuki couldn't help but ponder what his situation was like before Kallen found him, what kind of life he had just before he disappeared from the face of the earth.

She then stared up intently at the woman, and clutched her purse tightly. "You really can't find a match?"

"Well…" The officer looked up at the boy automatically, allowing her own assumptions and thoughts to take hold of her mind. Her eyes showered onto him some hostility, something the boy didn't seem to notice, and said, "He looks a bit like that Demon Emperor guy."

That sentence kept replaying in her mind as she walked out of the police station.

It'd been like that for the past days now. Ms. Kozuki didn't really trust the strange boy to be alone in the house, and though he was amazingly obedient she would always take him with her to work, and have him wait somewhere until her shift was over. Initially, she had him wait outside, sitting somewhere on a metal bench, watching the world pass by like a repetitive clock. However, whenever she would come back, she would always find a group of people gathered around somewhere, the hate so very evident in their eyes, as they questioned if they should report the boy to the police or not.

Afterwards, she would have him wait inside some restaurant or cafe, or even the store she worked at. It seemed like a viable situation, but every single time still, there would be people staring at him, employees moving out of the way uncomfortably, endeavoring to get away from the boy without being too conspicuous about it. Her own coworkers would voice their disapproval in her bringing him into the store; it was horrific for a few of the customers, to say the least.

She walked near the brightly lit store windows, absorbed by her thoughts with that very same boy following her, all the while trying not to linger in front of one display for too long. She heard his footsteps all over the place, his eyes darting here and there, entertaining himself with the alleged miraculous sights. Half the time, she expected him to tug at her arm like the children she saw in the mall, asking her to buy something that would've made any sheltered child's day. He's gotten stronger too, so strong that sometimes Ms. Kozuki would have trouble keeping up with him.

She could make out her breath, even among the tourists here; the brown coat she dragged on her body was extremely heavy. She pulled her pink, wool scarf tightly around her neck, and fixed her gloves so that her skin wouldn't be exposed to the cold. She remembered Kallen going on and on about how easy it was to get sick in this kind of weather.

The large, black umbrella was still in her hand, her brain shoving away the now light showers. Her arm reached out, and attempted to tug the boy along with her. When her hand touched only air, she forced herself out of her dreamlike, weary state. She spun around.

He was still back there.

He had one hand pressed against the glass, with an unreadable expression glazed over his face, as he stared into the bakery. White, soaring wedding cakes were placed at the front of the window, tempting that frostbitten onlooker with images of warm bread and frosting that usually melts in your mouth. Sugary, pink roses which were meticulously glued upon the surface peeked shyly at their admirer, imitating some sweet memory he probably had from long ago.

From here, he really did look like a child, lost even in this world.

Ms. Kozuki strolled toward him, and firmly pulled the umbrella over his head. She stole a glance at the bakery, and smiled a little. Well, he _did_ help around the house a lot, and though he was always silent, he never demanded anything from her. Perhaps she should reward him for such cooperative behavior. "Do you want it?" she asked softly.

When he didn't answer, she tried another approach. "Does it remind you of anything?"

He nodded. _Yes._

"Do you remember anything?"

 _No._

She examined the tall wedding cakes, at the careless, proud figurines on top. Their blank faces looked out at the crowds, not even bothering to channel the happiness associated with that special day, a day filled with love and laughter and kindness. The plastic couple sharply contrasted to her own memories, their dullness never once coming near the enthusiastic, gut wrenching anxiety she had before.

Yet, it was worth it. She could practically see her husband right now, giving her that compassionate smile as he usually would from very long ago. The lights were there, raised above their heads beneath that cold, lonely night. That's right; when they tried cutting the wedding cake, he accidentally stabbed himself with the knife. A tiny bit of blood splattered on her dress, and they spent that whole night trying to nurse him back to health. Half their honeymoon was ruined as they kept prodding the stab wound, trying to determine whether or not it was infected, to believe what the doctor said was true. The entire thing was so hilarious, and she laughed at it, even now.

The boy stared at her with those big, golden eyes. _What is it?_

She simply waved the memory away, though, much to her embarrassment, her humor lingered. "It's nothing. Would you like some?"

He turned back to the display, then slowly, shook his head. _No._

"It's fine. I really don't mind-"

She heard them then.

Those very same whispers.

Ms. Kozuki turned, her ears picking up those familiar, berating comments. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the crowds, already feeling the aggressiveness of those gazes, gazes filled with a prejudice she thought had disappeared long ago. Arrogant strangers were leaning against the tree trunks off to the side of the streets, standing at the corner of some alleyway, seated in the cafes and restaurants and the like, glaring at her with unnerving eyes. Their faces were an amalgam of worry, anger, confusion, any emotion she could pick out, emotions that weren't even supposed to be associated with a moment as precious as this. She followed their line of sight.

No; it wasn't her they were threatened by.

She tilted the umbrella slightly, and felt the rain touching the back of her head ever so slightly. The black fabric covered the boy's face protectively, effectively cutting off the hostile mood he was still so very oblivious to. He blinked. _What is it? What's wrong?_

She never understood the situation. She didn't know why almost everyone acted this way, nor did was she interested in their reasons. He never did anything to them. "Come," she said, as gently leading him inside the bakery. "I would like some sweets tonight. What about you?"

He blushed slightly, and stared down. _It's…it's fine…_

His thoughts were so easy to piece together. She brushed his weak request aside, and pulled him into the store. She folded the umbrella and tucked it underneath her arm. "We'll buy a tiny cake, and then we'll head home. Does that sound alright?"

 _H-home?_

"Do you have anywhere else to go?"

 _N-no, but-_

"Then you'll stay with my daughter and me for the time being, at least until we've figured things out. Sound good?"

It took the boy a long time to reply, and for the first time, she could see some logical battle playing out in his mind, debating on if he should trust her. The mistrust was so very present in his frame, and she couldn't help but feel a bit hurt at his doubts.

But how could he not? Her own daughter brought him here on more than likely some sympathetic whim, and he hasn't caused any trouble. So it delighted her when, from the corner of her eyes, he nodded, and accepted her offer.

* * *

Kallen resided here, in this grand hotel, simply to overlook the reconstruction in Schniezel's place while he oversaw Rakshata's tampering with the enemy Knightmares. It was very possible they would have the Guren outfitted once again, so it'd be no surprise if they called her in to test it out; she's heard rumors of a new weapons system being implemented into all prevailing Knightmares, as well as an original flight pattern that would give her a more chaotic edge when it came to the skies. There was even talk of her attending the next International conference with Zero, not as a bodyguard but as an observer.

Her schedule also included Paris, which was extremely beautiful, especially at night, when that romantic atmosphere would take over the entire city. The Eiffel Tower shined brilliantly against the darkness, housing a variety of new businesses that made the entire thing look like some distant dream. Small, tiny lights reflected across the river, along with colorful, paper lotuses which sheltered the candles hidden behind the wrappings, a courtesy of the now content Japanese populations. Many of the tourists gathered near the banks, on the bridges, in front their homes, just to see the brilliant, nostalgic spectacle, trying to hopelessly imitate the same crafts in the instant of that moment. They all sat there, laughing at their mistakes, while making fun of their companions for falling into the very same trap.

It really was supposed to be a relaxing night.

She paced back and forth, torn between calling home and leaving the situation alone altogether. She was staying _a lot_ longer than she'd anticipated, and frankly, she was already at her breaking point. She could go back home soon, but then again, she was afraid to see what she'd find there; a dead body, grounded for life, arrested for charges of kidnapping?

The boy kept popping back into her mind, and suddenly, things like food, water, whether or not her mother found out about the predicament, attacked her. What kind of things was he doing to pass the time? Was he laying there, on her bed, dying of starvation or thirst? Did he remember anything? Was he still crippled?

She was so engrossed by these thoughts she practically jumped when she heard a knock on the door. She turned hastily, and almost screamed at her mysterious visitor to go away. However, she held herself, and calmly, strolled toward the entrance to see what the maid wanted this time.

Nunnally stood there, smiling sheepishly at the redhead.

She had a large, boyish green beret on, with her light brown locks peaking out from underneath. She wore a pair of blue overalls, and a white, crisp t-shirt to go with it. She tugged on that huge, jean jacket, while trying to cover her face as much as possible. She waved a tiny hand, and was about to greet Kallen when the pilot forcibly pulled her into the room.

She shut the door and turned to the seemingly wayward Empress. Though Kallen was happy to see her, with so much going on, it was a bit imperative that Nunnally get back to Britannia. Before she could say anything however, Nunnally held up her hand. "Everything's going according to schedule."

"What are you-?"

The girl gave her a devilish smile."I wanted to see the festival for myself. It seems everyone's having a really good time."

Kallen steadily sank on the floor, her limbs collapsing underneath the weight of her relief. "Your Highness-"

"Nunnally," she stated stubbornly.

Kallen put her elbows on her knees. "Nunnally, did you tell anyone-?"

Nunnally crept toward Kallen, and seated herself across from her. "I told Sayako and Cornelia where I'd be. They're the ones who suggested this trip to begin with." She giggled lightly. "Apparently, I've been working too hard, and they wanted me to relax a bit."

"I…I see." Kallen leaned forward. "So, what are you planning on doing? With the new terrorists, I mean?"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk with you about." she clarified. "I plan on meeting with the terrorists soon, and I want you to go with me."

Kallen blinked. "But…but what about-?"

Nunnally grabbed her hand, and pressed it against her lap. "I don't want to involve Zero right now. Besides, you're one of the few people I can trust Kallen. You were my brother's subordinate after all, right?"

Kallen pushed away Lelouch's memory, and latched onto the current commander. "Will your efforts be enough?"

"They will."

"Then…it's fine." She squeezed the Empress's tiny hand back, and stared at it for a while. Silence filled the room quite rapidly, the comfortable atmosphere dampened by the girl's sudden proposal. "When exactly is that meeting?"

"A month from now."

"Are they really that dangerous? Why don't you have Cornelia or the royal guard-?"

"A majority of our forces are spent trying to speed up the developmental efforts," Nunnally explained. "There's also a lot of talk of establishing a global economic partnership with the EU, to try and get their markets stabilized, and all the officials want me to devote my time to that. So…so I have to take care of this now, before anyone else gets involved."

"Nunna, you realize you can rely on your allies, right?" Kallen asked seriously. "I'm sure Tianzi and Kaguya would be more than happy to-"

"I know, and normally, I would. But this matter is a bit personal."

She straightened. Personal? Was someone laying claim to the Britannian throne? Was it a member of the old regime, or was it something else? "What do you need from me then?"

"I know you're an International Relations major, so I think this will be a really good experience for you. I also trust you to know what to do should specific matters arise."

"Still, striking a deal with those bastards…"

"Please Kallen." Nunnally whispered softly. "I really need your help with this."

It was only a brief moment, so brief that she might not have mistaken her for the boy back at her home. They had something in common, something she could never possibly hope to understand. And it was that confusion that made it a bit more comforting for Kallen. Her eyes softened at her request, and carefully, she stroked the young girl's cheeks.

"Fine."


	18. Chapter 18

Kallen did everything in her power to stay awake as she made her way to the door, tugging an obedient duffle bag to her side. She yawned and scratched her head, wiping away the dried drool from her mouth while practicing her unladylike gestures (Nunnally remarked at how tomboyish the red headed seemed at times). She was grateful that there were no further delays in the reconstruction, a project that resulted in countless sleepless nights, as well as panic attacks that made it hard to breathe; coupled with her constant binging in international delicacies, it was a miracle she managed to escape from it all.

She waved away her neighbors' concerned faces. She gave them all a tried smile, and walked up that torturous pathway to the wonderful, comfortable apartment she's grown to love. She couldn't wait to smell the stench of perfume all over the house, the sight of takeout and fortune-cooking wrappings already filling her delighted mind.

But the very depiction of the boy was what gave her the strength to make it all the way to the front door. She pictured his usually smiling, friendly gaze, as he greeted her from her very long and very tiresome missions. Then again, she wouldn't mind if he got mad either; after all, it was always incredibly boring to have the same attitude every single day. Surely it wouldn't hurt for him to give her the cold shoulder once in a while.

She grabbed her keys and opened the door happily. "Mom, I'm home."

 _Welcome back._

Kallen froze, as she stared at the former lame boy with a white tea kettle in his hands.

She could never mistake that happy, blissful smile tugging at his lips, along with those burning, golden embers which made her suspect that all was right with his world. He was wearing a new, thick, black sweater, a sweater that looked extremely new, she might add, and grey sweat pants that only served to emphasize how thin he was. His wet hair clung to his neck, and the fresh aroma of soap diffused into the air, nothing at all like the fragile victim that lay on her bed.

Kallen stared at him from head to toe, then, in that stark realization, slowly pushed opened the door, revealing an exceptionally disgruntled mother, who sitting there with a cup of jasmine tea in her hands.

Ms. Kozuki turned to her with a special glare, which automatically rendered Kallen submissive. The pilot has always hated that glare; it already told her what type of punishment was in order for both her and her accomplices. However, in the surprise guest's case, he had nothing to do with the her current predicament, considering how amiably he was being treated. Her mother, as of this point, probably trusted him more than her own daughter.

"Hello dear," she said eerily. "Please, have a seat."

"Mom, I can explain-"

" _Kallen."_

After more moments of silence, Kallen reluctantly shut the door, effectively cutting herself off from any potential witnesses. The boy stood back, seemingly shocked at her tense movements as she placed the bag down hesitantly, before dragging herself across the room and into the den. She gave him a wary smile, and almost grabbed his arm for support, though she refrained from doing so. She took one heavy footstep after another, her former fatigue disappearing without leaving a single trace behind.

Gently, she sat herself down, and stared at the table shamefully, folding her hands in her lap like she usually did to avoid punishment. There were a few cups on the table, all pearl white, all arranged in a neat little circle around a large space that she could only assume to be the tea kettle. The napkins were laid out nicely, and there were even tiny plates that adorned each of the table's corners.

In a way, it did feel like a last meal, just right before the execution. She was ready to sip from the world like a fatal temptation from one of her darkest nightmares, undoing the events that led to the boy's discovery, but she held herself, knowing full well that the situation was, for the most part, out of her hands.

Her mother waved the boy over, and asked him to pour Kallen a cup. He did so without any fear. He couldn't even feel the tension, the danger Kallen was in, even as he stood there, with that naiveté permeating from his body.

He was just that adorable.

Kallen grasped the cup and held the edge against her lips, giving her tongue a taste of her mother's creation. Her eyes widened at the delectable taste. Was this her mother's handiwork? "Mom, this is-"

"Naoko made it."

"Naoko?"

Ms. Kozuki gestured to the boy as he made his way back into the kitchen. He set the tea kettle down on the stove. "He's quite skilled." she continued. "At least, he's a lot more skilled than you and me. But that's not saying much, is it?"

"That's…that's um-"

"He _is_ feminine, in a sense." She replied as 'Naoko' settled next to Kallen, putting his legs up and staring at the two. His genuinely jubilant face subtly began shifting away from that wondrous light, when his eyes scanned the atmosphere. He straightened a bit, pondering what was wrong between the two. "Yes; even if he is a boy, Naoko suits him well."

"I…I see…"

"I'm glad you like it." She set the tea cup down and looked up at her daughter, who was now busily pouring the delicious drink down her small esophagus. When she was finished, she laid the cup on the table as well, realizing too late that the efforts were useless. "Kallen-"

"He was in trouble," Kallen interrupted. "He was in trouble, and…I just found him there. He was unconscious-"

"-Kallen-"

"I mean, I couldn't just leave him there! He was hurt really badly, and when I found him, he couldn't even _walk-"_

 _"_ _Kallen,"_ Ms. Kozuki stated firmly, leaning toward her daughter with the tiniest hint mirth in her eyes. "I understand."

"You…you understand?"

"I…actually, I broke into your room while you were away," she admitted sheepishly. "But it was only because I was worried, and because I kept hearing a lot of weird sounds coming from your room. It was only after all of that I found Naoko sitting there, on your bed."

"I…"

She took another sip, then closed her eyes. "I took him to the police station."

Kallen gaped at her mother, trying to come up with some reason, any reason, to a perceived problem that never existed in the first place. Yet she shut her worries down, and swallowed them whole, doing whatever it took to kill the adrenaline now surrounding her heart.

"Now," Ms. Kozuki began, "I know what you're going to say. But I didn't know who he was. I had no idea what the _stranger_ you brought into our home was capable of, so I had to check for myself."

"…and…and did it-?"

She shook her head. "No. In fact the police could find no match for Naoko in the databases. DNA tests, blood samples, fingerprinting, birth certificates, medical records, anything at all; there was-"

"-absolutely no trace," Kallen finished quietly, casting a long, thoughtful look at the boy sitting next to her, a boy who was attempting with all his might to work out the situation. She narrowed her eyes, and spun looked up. "He's not in the records?"

"He isn't. That's why, until the police find a lead, he'll be staying with us." 'Naoko' poured Ms. Kozuki another cup. "I suppose you have no objections to this arrangement?"

Objections, huh? It was bad news, and to be perfectly honest, Kallen didn't think that the boy staying here was an ideal proposition. If anything, it would've been easier to say no to begin with. Besides which, his recovery was miraculous, and it seems he knew more than enough to take care of himself, even if he did look like Lelouch. The problem was troubling enough, considering he robbed her of her bed (though she forced it on him), and her freedom (though she wanted to keep him from dying of boredom). She probably wasn't even a very good nurse (though, of course, 'Naoko' might beg to differ).

But she felt a burning relief flood her body. She didn't know what for, since he was an utter stranger, and she didn't know what to make of it. It seems that life always had some surprise waiting around every corner, and it made the confusion that more chaotic.

But the question was easy enough to answer. So easy, in fact, she pondered on her mental state for a while. "No," Kallen heard herself say, having a fair amount of trouble hiding the wide smile on her face.

She nodded approvingly. "You really are kindhearted, Kallen."

"Y-yeah."

"You're grounded, by the way."

The pilot's happy mood vanished. "W-what?"

"You are grounded."

"What for?!" she burst, her rage flying away from her normally clam mood. This really was unfair; to think that her own mother would just go back on her word like that-

"Well," she laughed emptily. "For one thing, you locked up the poor boy in your room. You let a stranger enter our home, however harmless he may be, and you practically _lied_ to me for several weeks now." Ms. Kozuki shot Kallen an angelic grin, along with an expression that made the redhead shiver, as well as a giggle that was equivalent to that of a lone, murderous howl on the edge of insanity.

The pilot stared down. "I-"

"Need I repeat myself?"

"But-!"

" _Kallen_."

"This…this is so unfair!"

All the while, Naoko sat awkwardly, toying with the loose threads on his sleeve.

* * *

His feet swayed from side to side, the familiar melodies with their lovely, sonorous sounds resonating from one membrane to the other. His hands sliced through the air expertly, his mind telling him the exact position of where they should be and at what time interval. Intimate recollections of those elegant movements continued to appear within the back of his mind subconsciously, directing his actions with every moment passed.

The woman was singing as usual, playing one of her old, folk tunes that managed to cling to his limbs. Every phrase delicately flourishing from one chord to the next. Her soft fingers plucked the strings of the harp effortlessly, as she leaned against it wearily, singing to an elegy her heart couldn't bear to let go of.

In his opinion, it was a bit sad, yet at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if she wished for those happy times again; whenever he asked her of this, she would always brush him aside and allow his imagination to conjure up whatever impossible scenario there was present in his brain. He would then throw them all away, and would come up to her again, only to be sent back on yet another confusion excursion.

Light breezes polished his skin as he swept through that very same ballroom. He twisted his body carefully, and faced toward the woman, who was just finishing her last song. When the final crescendo sounded, he eased to a gradual halt, then held his position. He released himself when a few seconds passed.

The woman stared at him happily, finally quieting her melodious repertoire. She stood and brushed away the dirt from her skirts, a stain that the envious instruments kept giving her. She took a small breath and strolled toward him, clapping her hands lightly at his performance. Her praise was fairly unnatural, so he blushed a bit, though he still maintained his quiet behavior.

He stared at her for a while, at his own reflection in her eyes, as he endeavored to decipher those enigmatic thoughts of hers. He knew it was a pointless venture, but for some reason, he would still try and do so, trying to predict the unpredictable, analyzing her songs and sweet poetry, piecing together some unknown puzzle which, even when completed, had made no sense. He took one step forward and scrutinized her, grabbing her by the hand to keep her from moving.

She smirked, but allowed him to examine her so very closely, as he had for past dreams now. He didn't have any idea what he was looking for, nor did he have expectations to which her story was revealed; he only searched those bright, hopeful orbs. He would dance pass her musical barriers, and step through her eirenic, tempting, siren like calls, if only to catch a glimpse of a world he was barely familiar with. And there it was; she started singing that same lullaby again.

He decided to rebel against her.

He grabbed her hand and firmly placed it in his own. Her eyes widened with surprise, and for the first time, she was speechless. He held her body close against his, as they had many times before, as they started dancing around the ballroom. She was struggling, though she wasn't as forceful as he knew her to be, playfully beating against his chest, inserting erroneous words in the lyrics, all in an effort to make him let go. She was dragged expertly across the room afterwards. It took some time, but finally, the two settled into a simple routine that kept them entertained for a while.

He was surprised at how, after a while, she started breathing a bit harder, and for the first time, he stayed ahead of her, supporting her with one hand while he led with the other.

They continued their dance, even after she started to disappear.


	19. Chapter 19

"Stay by me at all times."

 _Yes._

"And don't do anything weird when people are watching."

 _Right._

Kallen winced when Naoko's eyes turned away, enchanted by the various animals passing by. He tugged a bit, his wrist slipping from her grasp. Hastily, she pulled it back in place and sped up, the already uncomfortable stares irritatingly distracting from her usual morning routine. From the corner of her eyes, she could make out the confused glares stretching toward them from across the streets, whispering to one another words she couldn't help but pay attention to. She even saw a few police officers surveying them, debating as to whether or not to bring them in for further questioning. Some kids were struggling to get out of their way, the horror very much embedded into their bodies as they raced to their mothers, crying about the "Demon Emperor incarnate."

Her mother was the one who suggested the outing though. Apparently, he needed to be with people around his own age (regardless of what his actual age might be), and that he should experience life to the fullest (though they don't know what his actual life _was)_. _"Let him see a few of your classes."_ she ordered the night before. _"It's not like it's going to affect you in any way."_

 _"_ _Mom, remember what happened at work?"_

 _"_ _Your classmates might have more of an open mind."_

 _"_ _I think it's better to just have him stay here, until this whole Lelouch business blows over."_

 _"_ _Well, we don't know when that'll be now, do we?"_

 _"_ _It isn't safe-"_

 _"_ _But it's not good for a growing boy to stay inside all day either. Just take him to the university. Who knows? He might remember something there."_

Kallen sighed, then sharply turned to Naoko, who was beginning to lag behind. He was wearing a rundown, light brown trench coat, with torn khaki pants and a black, rundown sweater her mother managed to fish out of the closet. Every fabric hung off him loosely, so much so it barely did anything to protect him from the cold. In essence, he looked like a hobo she just picked off the street, and considering that state was how a majority of the world wanted Lelouch vi Britannia to be in, it made the entire scene all the more painful.

Despite his handsome face, his childlike innocence was probably going to be thing that gets him into trouble. Though she's tried to correct the problem a multitude of times, Kallen couldn't tell if he was even listening at all, since he was always staring off somewhere, his mind anywhere else but her lecture.

That, along with his naive indifference to personal space, was enough to put her in a bad mood.

She was relieved when the university was in sight, and started jogging. "Keep up," she scolded. "We're gonna be late."

She slammed the glass doors open and dragged him inside, the assault echoing from across the metallic hallway. She ignored the plentiful stares she'd got from within the corridors and kept Naoko close beside her, her eyes carefully kept down. She could feel his wrist wriggling out of her iron grip, and through some stroke of miraculous pity, she loosened up a bit, knowing full well how easily he bruised. She stopped and scowled. "What?"

He gave her an irritated gaze. _Why're you so mad?_

"Mad?" she scoffed. "I'm not mad. I just think it's a bad idea."

 _Why?_

"You don't need to know."

 _It's not a crime for me to be here._

"Whatever."

 _You know, when people act this way, they've usually got something to hide._

She wanted to slap that smug grin right off his face. "Just come on," she dismissed, taking guilty pleasure in his grimace when she took him hostage again. Her eyes stole a look at her watch; fifteen minutes left.

She made a beeline for the auditorium in the far left corner of the hallway. She slung her bag on her shoulder and walked quickly toward the rambunctious crowd, who was discussing the latest results on a test she unfortunately missed. She never allowed him to walk ahead of her, and even when she went through the door, she shielded him carefully with her body and went behind the hopefully oblivious audience. She walked up the stairs and rushed to the one lone, dark corner in the room. Once she set him down, she looked back at her peers, who were busily tearing their degree plans apart.

He stared ahead at her classmates, the longing forcing her to turn away. _You're all over there though…_

"Stay here until this lecture is done." She fished out an empty spiral and pen and placed them in front of him. "If you're that bored, just doodle. Take notes, do whatever."

 _Notes?_

"Yeah, _notes_." Kallen repeated aggressively. "This _is_ a school after all."

 _Is everything alright?_

She huffed. "Peachy. As long as you do everything I tell you to, it'll work out, okay? Don't go off anywhere by yourself, and wait until I come get you."

 _Nothing bad's going to happen._

"I'd rather you didn't make careless assumptions," she grumbled. "Haven't you been paying any attention?"

 _To?_

"…Really?"

"Kallen!"

She jumped and spun around, thrusting her bag in Naoko's face. She automatically leaned backwards, hissing, "Keep quiet," all the while trying to look somewhat unruffled by the annoying blonde bounding toward her. She gave him an awkward smile, as she dug her nails into the row to prevent herself from falling; she'd forgotten someone. "Can I help you?" she asked anxiously.

"You haven't been here in a while." he answered, not bothering to notice her uncomfortable atmosphere.

"O-oh." She shrugged her shoulders as she sank further away from him. "Well, you know; Black Knight stuff and all that…"

"Need any help getting caught up?"

"I just need the notes-"

He removed his bag from his shoulders and fumbled with the zipper, revealing a mess of papers stuffed at the bottom, along with some stench that might as well have been some unfortunate rat that carelessly got caught. A broken ruler resided in the inside pockets, along with a pink and blue protractor hanging from the opening. "We were just doing 10 and 11 for the final. The material's really easy, but polar coordinates might be a bit difficult."

She hesitantly took the papers which were carelessly hanging from his fingertips, and pondered on if that was coffee in the corner. Still, his handwriting was neat, and everything was organized. She nodded gratefully as she skimmed through the various techniques and what looked like formulas. To be perfectly honest, she didn't even know half the stuff that was on here. She looked up. "Thank you."

Gino kept standing there, for some reason. He rubbed his neck nervously, an action she never thought she'd see. "So um… Kallen?"

"Huh?"

"Have you heard about…? No I mean, you should've heard about it…well…I was just wondering…you know…"

"I see," she grunted, when she felt jostling from behind her. It wasn't like Naoko was suffering or anything; aside from some discomfort, there should be no reason why he'd be _this_ stubborn. She gritted her teeth and put the papers down, attempting to keep him still. "Did something happen?" she managed.

"Rivalz new restaurant!" he suddenly burst. "You wanna go?"

"Yeah, sure…" Her voice faltered when she felt his hands on her back, endeavoring endlessly to shove her away. "What time, what place…?"

"Friday. At…seven."

"Sure, sure." She winced when he jabbed her side, which prompted her to jam her elbow in his face. She felt his forehead on her lower back, and for a brief moment, he stopped struggling, and went back to being that same, submissive boy she first rescued. She smirked haughtily, and turned back. "Sorry, what?"

"You know…kind of like a-"

"Sure. I'll go."

Gino blinked. "R-really."

"Yeah," she said as she gripped Naoko's hair tightly, trying to prevent him from instigating another fight. "Seven, right?"

"Right. I'll see you there." Gino gave her one last charming smile before happily making his way back to his row.

Kallen sighed, and spun around toward the boy, who now stared at her defiantly, holding his cheek with tiny tears in his eyes. His eyes flicked toward Gino, and within the second, he snickered. _So he's your dirty little secret…_

"Shut it! What did I _just_ say?"

 _Seem like a cool guy._ He stretched his torso, trying to catch another glimpse of Gino, that dreaded intrusiveness making climbing back into his system. _He asked you on a date right? Are you nervous?_

"It's not a date!" she hissed softly, grabbing both his hands and pinning him against the wall. "We're just hanging out! No, you can't come with us!"

 _I don't get it. You're so mean this morning._

"You're getting on my nerves!"

 _What'd I do?_

"Look-!"

"Hey Kallen; I totally forgot to-"

When Kallen turned around again, she found Gino staring at the both of them. Naoko simply smiled and waved.

* * *

He sat there contently, staring at the coat on his lap, while toying with his sleeves, indulging his skin in the very soft fabric. He did that for a bit, then stole a curious look at the tall, lean, blond man sitting next to him at the table. He was contemplating on something very peculiar, something that Naoko possibly had no business in. The boy tore his attention away from him and concentrated on Kallen as nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. He caught her gazes multiple times, showing how extremely reluctant she was on leaving the two by their lonesome.

Naoko turned to the person called Gino who was now staring at him with those intense thoughts hidden behind his brain. Truth be told, Gino's eyes were a bit lighter than Kallen's, and his attire was so bright Naoko had to look away initially. However, he seemed amiable enough, though his introduction was all Naoko had to go off of, and he was genuinely concerned for Kallen's well being. He was in such a good mood this morning, so Naoko thought the mood came naturally for a person like him. He'd be a good for her.

Naoko blinked, and cocked his head, trying to determine why the man was staring at him so intensely. It seems he caught his mistake. "So…" Gino began awkwardly. "How long have you known Kallen?"

Naoko smiled brightly, and held up two fingers. The only people he ever got to talk to were Ms. Kozuki and Kallen. Whenever he tries approaching someone, they would just leave or scream at him incoherently. Kallen would drag him away from someone new altogether, telling him to keep his head down and not draw attention to himself, which made it harder to socialize with anyone. Perhaps if he made a good impression on this guy, she wouldn't be so worried all the time. Even if Naoko couldn't talk, he could still fend for himself.

His confidence wavered when Gino frowned. "Your throat hurt or something?"

Naoko dropped his fingers. His lips parted slightly and mouthed, _Two months._

It didn't look like the strange man understood. He merely cleared his throat and changed the subject. "I uh…I haven't seen you here before. You a new student?"

He shook his head, and his eyes slid to Kallen, who was firing orders at the poor cashier. Gino turned around and nodded, much to Naoko's relief. "So you're here with Kallen, then. You live around here?"

He nodded.

"Ever thought about coming here? The school does a bang up job with its study abroad programs. It's ah…it's cool…"

He delve deep into his thoughts, trying to come up with a way to ask for more information when he heard the redhead's familiar, shrill voice calling both their names. When he looked down, he found a piece of chocolate cake staring him back in the face, along with a tiny cup of water that practically trembled at Kallen's monstrous presence.

He looked up as she took a seat across from him. She gave him an even look, to which he answered, _I approve._

She blushed furiously and turned toward Gino. She bowed, much to his confusion. "I'm really sorry for all the trouble he's caused."

Gino laughed, and returned to his friendly personality. "It's fine. I was just…kind of surprised-"

"He can be an idiot sometimes. But it's not his fault, you know? He just doesn't know any better." She barked out a harsh laugh, causing the two boys to wince. Naoko's eye twitched at her very conspicuous excuse. _Liar._

 _"_ In fact, sometimes I wonder if he understands anything at all."

"What?" Gino turned back to the boy with a tight smile. "He's a grown man. Sorry dude. She can be kind of aggressive, but she doesn't mean any harm."

 _You've got him twisted around your little finger._

Naoko suddenly tasted chocolate in the back of his throat, along a sharp utensil bent on stabbing his tongue. He fumbled with Kallen's sudden attack, glowering sharply at Kallen's eerie smile. "Like I said, doesn't know any better…"

 _People are staring, idiot._

"Kallen, really. It's okay." Gino whispered as he set the behemoth back in her seat. Naoko gave her a triumphant smile before returning back to his cake which, truth be told, was a bit stale. He shot Naoko a dark, amused grin as he petted her spiky hair. "Now that we've cleared that up, let's start over." He held out his hand. "Gino."

He took it, and mouthed, _Naoko._

"Sorry," she said when, again, that mildly hostile light returned to the blonde's eyes. "He says his name's Naoko. He's got a really bad sore throat right now."

"Oh. Well, what you brings you here then? Interested in the school?"

He nodded.

"We've got a lot of good departments. I'd be happy to show you around sometime. Of course," he shot Kallen a flirty wink, "if your warden lets you out, that is."

Gino walked away with a black eye that afternoon.


	20. 20 Memory

Naoko sat on a park bench one morning with an itchy wool scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, as he waited patiently for Ms. Kozuki to finish her work. Gazing out at the colorful dawn, he sighed pleasantly and relished in the warmth of his new, ruined clothes. From atop this hill, he could see the entirety of the outdoor mall down below, both the busy stalls and the vibrant flags which settled near it; he could even make out the store where Ms. Kozuki worked, so much so he couldn't help but wave a cheerful hello, knowing full well she wouldn't notice him there. There were a lot more tourists there than usual today. Was that a good thing?

The fiery leaves surrounded him readily. Their ember-like dirt thrashing around with the assistance of a few weary souls here and there, all of whom were giving him those same, weird looks. Now normally, he would be bothered by those people, and would walk up to them accordingly and see exactly what was wrong. Since he couldn't talk, he would have to cock his head and give them a confused expression, all of which were, apparently, offensive. So he chose to simply ignore them, and continue with his trivial little nature viewing; after all, the animals don't seem to mind him at all.

He closed his eyes, and was about to drift into a light, comfortable slumber, when he felt a leaf hit his nose. He brushed it off. Then there was another leaf. Then another. Then another. Then another.

He opened his eyes and gazed around, trying to see if there was anyone nearby. No, they were all keeping their distance, as usual. He didn't hear any squirrels running about, or any birds chirping their usual melodic lullabies. Naoko couldn't help but look up, pondering just what on earth could have interrupted his usual day.

Then he heard a quiet _meow_ from above his head.

There was a strange, feline-like shadow hidden high in the tree branches. Two bright yellow eyes stared back at him. Soft, purple fur was entangled in the twigs of the tree, with a red collar which grazed its neck so badly. The creature had a dark purple spot on its left eye, and even from here, he could make out the bits of dirt that coated all over its paws. He only had to squint to see that one of its paws a bit crooked.

Perhaps that's why he couldn't come down.

Naoko stood from his seat and stood back. His eyes were trained on the cat, who was, as of this point, ceasing its incessant cries and peering down at him curiously. It cocked its tiny head and leaned over a bit, before accidentally slipping. Naoko held his breath, and his arms immediately jerked forth in. No, it didn't fall; rather, it remained where it was, and stared down at him once again, pondering on what the strange person was going to do.

Well, it's clear the tiny thing can't get down on its own. But then again, it'd only been a few days since Naoko started walking again. Still, it wasn't like he was doing anything else for the day, aside from going grocery shopping with Ms. Kozuki. Besides, he felt strong enough, even if he had no muscle on his limbs, and had no confidence in his physical strength whatsoever. So he took a deep breath, took off his coat, and grabbed one of the lower branches.

Then he started climbing.

* * *

This is _not_ what the Prime Minister of Japan should be doing.

Oghi ran back and forth from the park, calling out Arthur's name, all the while drawing more and more attention to himself. Thankfully he hadn't made a lot of public appearances, nor was his name well known in the public, aside from a few international circles. Since everything was fine nation-wise, no one bothered making much of a fuss about him, which, during moments like these, worked to his advantage. What made it humiliating, however, was the fact he had to come out dressed in his white boxers and t-shirt, along with some worn out slippers the maid left out and what may very well be Villetta's night robe.

He remembered getting a call from a neighbor, saying that Arthur had gotten out again. Like an utter fool, he decided to rush over with little regards to what he'd been wearing. After all, this was urgent; the last time Arthur had gotten out he managed to disrupt an entire meeting involving Japan's new trade agreement with the EU by spilling coffee all over Lady Florence's dress. And the time before that, Lady Kaguya ended up, unfortunately, as his scratching post, which of course, caused the International UFN's security conference to be delayed by ten whole hours. Not to mention how he was scolded by nearly half the representatives there, with almost all the insults coming from none other than Xing-ke himself.

Oghi would wince every time he saw his face.

Personally, Oghi loved Arthur, just like everyone else in Japan, but honestly, he had no _idea_ what everyone saw in the feline. Though he can have a sweet temper, there were times when his playfulness did a lot more harm than good. He bites a lot of people (mainly Zero), scratches a lot of people (again, Zero), and hisses at so many guests (what did Zero do to him anyways?). And somehow, someway, that fur ball managed to become one of the top celebrities in the world, garnering more fame than Oghi could have possibly imagined.

He had to laugh every time he thought of it.

He was panting extremely hard, and the fatigue from running around all morning was wearing him down. He plopped on a wooden bench and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The cool autumn breeze melted away his efforts in an instant, and immediately, he began to relax. All the pretenses of chasing a demonic cat vanished from his mind, as he stared out at the scene in front of him.

He'd been so busy lately, what with trying to keep up with another one of Villetta's reforms, or even his own bills, that he hadn't been getting a lot of time with his family. His son was doing well in school, so well he keeps following his teachers around all day to the point where a few of them referenced him as "the creepy child." And that wasn't all; just yesterday, the doctor had just told Villetta that she was pregnant. Not to mention there's Alfheimr to deal with, and increasing controversial action regarding the military funds…

He sat back, and decided to rest for a few more minutes. It wasn't every day he'd get an opportunity as golden as this. He closed his eyes, and felt the peaceful, soothing zephyr the wind had so lovingly delivered unto him. He felt the tension in his body release, and slowly but surely, he started getting a little tired. Maybe a nap wouldn't hurt…

"Meow!"

Oghi snapped awake and turned his head. His eyes scanned the empty park, trying to catch a glimpse of something dark. It shouldn't be that hard. Where was that fur ball anyways?

"Meow!"

Slowly, Oghi tilted his head upwards.

And there that stupid little cat was, cradled in the arms of some stranger he managed to rope into coming with him.

Oghi stood hastily, noticing the brown coat that was so carelessly lying on the ground. He scooped it up and looked up at the stranger. "Hey!" he called.

It seems the boy was asleep. His bangs were covering his eyes, but the sudden jolt reassured Oghi that, at the very least, he wasn't dead. He smiled briefly, before narrowing his eyes. Why was he just sitting there? "That's my cat!"

He could feel the boy's eyes staring him down, trying to determine if he was telling the truth or not. Yet it was only a couple of seconds before he smiled, and held Arthur gently in his arms. Carefully, he started to make his way down. He put one foot on a seemingly strong branch, and was about to walk on another, when it cracked and broke. He tried another, then another, then another, all of the following resulting in the same, pathetic end.

Violently, he jerked back, and sat back in his original spot, unwilling to move anywhere else.

Oghi barely dodged the falling tree branch, and timidly peeked upwards. "Are you alright?" Much to the his relief, the boy nodded.

Arthur must've gotten his attention, so he decided to climb all the way up to try and get Arthur down. Now neither of them can leave because a majority of the tree's branches can't support both their weights. And there was just no way they could jump down without hurting themselves, at least, not without support. So Oghi held out both his hands. "Jump!"

The boy stared at him.

"Come on, jump!"

He shook his head.

"I'll catch you! That's my cat you have there!"

 _No._

His arms fell back to his side. Was he scared of heights or something? No, that couldn't be it; if that was the case, even if Arthur was up there there'd be no reason for him to go so far. Maybe he recognized Arthur and wanted to do get credit for saving him? Was he trying to be on amiable terms with the Prime Minister? Not likely, considering he didn't say anything when Oghi came here.

He sighed. "You shouldn't be afraid! Just jump!"

Again, the boy refused.

* * *

Thankfully, that strange man was still there, shouting at him exhaustively for him to jump down, so that made things easier for Ms. Kozuki to find him. It'd already been seven hours since the problem began, and neither of the two have made any progress whatsoever. Truth be told, Naoko was a bit worried about him, considering how scary and desperate he looked just to get his cat back. There were tears in his eyes, as he kept holding out his arms and ordering Naoko to jump; there were goosebumps all over his skin, and he was shivering.

He really should have worn something heavier than that.

Arthur the cat was sleeping soundly on his lap, curled next to his scarf; poor thing's been up here for the past two days due to a mean dog that keeps chasing him around. Just minutes before, he'd been telling Naoko about his new life, about the people he's messed around with, about the memories that came and went. There were a lot of toys around this city, some of which including the various politicians, students, strangers, and some guy that tastes like carmel. Recently, he was rubbing himself on Naoko's fingers, before succumbing to his own weariness.

He watched as Ms. Kozuki stormed up to the man, demanding just exactly what he was doing there. Naoko's eyes met hers briefly, and automatically, her tone intensified; he then had to watch sadly as the man began crumbling right before the mother's strong presence. Well, it wasn't his fault that he couldn't understand; though Naoko has tried communicating with the man a variety of times, he just couldn't quite grasp whatever silent language he was using. Arthur was hurt pretty badly, and Naoko simply wasn't going to risk injuring the cat any further by jumping down.

"Naoko!"

His ears opened to the sound of Ms. Kozuki's voice. He leaned over, gripping Arthur tightly while gazing down with concerned eyes. "Naoko, can you get down?"

 _No._

"Is the cat alright?"

 _No._

She put her purse down and whispered something to the man's ear. Quickly, he grabbed one of the lower branches when she stopped him. "Naoko, I need you to hold the cat close to your chest!"

Obediently, he fixed Arthur's position while pressing the scarf against his cheek. _Got it._

"Are there any branches you can walk across?"

 _No._

"Then I'm going to have to ask you to jump!"

His eyes widened.

"Don't worry! Mr. Oghi here will catch you!"

Oghi?

That name sounded so familiar.

But Naoko brushed it aside and held Arthur close. Steadily, he stood up, and fixed his gaze on where Oghi was. Funny; it never occurred to him how high up he was.

He took a deep breath, and jumped.

* * *

Oghi found himself lying on the ground with that stubborn child sitting on top of him.

With the exception of those strange, golden eyes, he was the splitting image of Lelouch. He looked just like him, even with that innocent, childish aura surrounding him. The shock of such a strong resemblance rendered him speechless for a while, and though the breath was just returning to his body, his voice failed him. Oghi's hands trembled at the sight, and he almost turned away shamefully, expecting some kind of judgement that was long past due.

Then he felt Arthur's nose rubbing against his chin.

He sat up. "I uh…I…I apologize-"

The boy called Naoko simply held his hand up, and gave him a warm, apologetic smile, before climbing off of him very clumsily. The woman helped Oghi up. "I'm sorry. Thank you for watching over him."

"N-no. Thank you for getting my cat." Oghi hesitantly turned to Naoko, who stared at him curiously. A faint shimmer of recognition gleamed within his pupils, but other than that, there was no indicator of whatever past sins Oghi may have committed. He caught his own reflection in the boy's eyes, and was drawn in by the benevolent radiance Naoko seemed to dwell in. "And I really appreciate it that you kept him company."

He simply nodded.

Oghi couldn't help but grasp for words, doing anything he could not to seem incredibly anxious. Arthur however, couldn't comprehend his master's nervousness, and reached out to try and lick Naoko's hand. "Well, I hope…you both have a wonderful evening…"

"You as well," the woman said kindly, before taking Naoko's hand and leading him away from the scene altogether. "Take care."

The boy turned around, and wished Oghi the same farewell, before turning around and disappearing through the crowds of people.


	21. Chapter 21

Suzaku watched as Nunnally took her seat, before briefly scanning the other UFN representatives, including Kaguya, who was enamored with the girlish atmosphere her Chinese counterpart managed to cause, and Oghi, who kept rereading his notes, memorizing all that needed to be done so that, at the very least Japan, as well as the other alliances, have fair say in the meeting. He folded his hands onto his lap and sat back against his seat, while his brain raced ahead on a hundred other matters.

Both Euphie and Cornelia were waiting outside, seated in one of the newer Knightmare Frames which surrounded Buckingham Palace, blocking any reporters that tried squeezing through. He could feel her magic radiate even from here, along with the protective charms used to disrupt the senses of any perceived foe in the event Arthur decided to attack here. Though her barrier won't work against her previous soldiers, it'll help her detect enemy Knightmares more easily, and will thus, give them an edge should there ever be a full on assault.

He tensed when the very thought came to him. He never knew Euphie was so talented in battle. She destroyed him mercilessly when he tried interfering with her militarily, and it's very clear that Lelouch's own prowess had rubbed off on her. If this plan worked, then both Euphie and Suzaku would gain the resources necessary to find Lelouch, from economic records to top political lobbyists to even small, run of the mill rumors that were evoked from every secret society present. Moreover, they would've indirectly secured international alliances that would alert them the moment something concerning Arthur appeared, no matter how clueless those allies were.

That prospect alone was daunting enough, but what troubled Suzaku more was the fact that Lelouch would be playing a part he sought to avoid from the very beginning. He knew full well that his best friend would rather die than do anything that resembles that of being a political pawn. However, this was more or less a stalemate; both Arthur and Euphie are expending resources, all for the sake of a man who might not take whatever bait they might lay out. And he started to wonder that, should Lelouch be found, if his friend's opinion would even be considered in the matter.

If only he could determine the timeframe in which Arthur lost his Lelouch…

"Right," he heard Nunnally say.

Carefully, he removed himself from his concerns and concentrated on the meeting. Everyone fell silent at an instant, with a quiet reverence falling across the room. "I believe we all know why we're here. The Chinese Federation, as well as the new Babel Tower site in Japan, were attacked. I've also received reports that Alfheimr is planning on making another big debut. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Kaguya answered. "A majority of the UFN's budget has been reestablished to deal with Alfheimr. Military funds have been sent to the major superpowers, Britannia included."

"Which brings up a very big concern," one man stated, leaning over her desk with analyzing eyes. "I've heard that Britannia has refused such aid."

"Britannian military is strong enough to handle Alfheimr." Nunnally replied. "We've more than enough soldiers in our homeland, and as of this point, I feel it of more importance to develop our remaining colonies rather than concentrate on building up one main army."

"But you were shot," Oghi reminded. "And the enemy managed to slip in as men who were personally escorting you. Also-"

"The new Knightmare frames are ready and waiting," Suzaku intercepted, throwing a dubious look at the prime minister. "In two days time, every superpower will gain these Knightmares according to the size of their army. Any vulnerabilities one nation might possess will be covered by other nations through secret trade routes and communication lines."

Whispers erupted from the room then. Nunnally stared at the room collectively, and silently ordered that they remain to their own thoughts. Finally, one of the representatives spoke up. "Are you suggesting, Zero, that we form a coalition against these terrorists? Isn't that a bit much?"

Suzaku closed his eyes, knowing the obvious doubts that kept popping up across the room. He took one look at Nunnally, and was slightly perturbed at how calmly she was handling all of this; in truth, he felt a bit inadequate. "The reason behind these actions is to prevent these incidents from resulting in catastrophic consequences. Think about it for a moment; when Alfheimr attacked the Chinese Federation, the world's leaders were meeting for a simple party to celebrate our unity. The multicultural fair that took place at Babel Tower served for the very same purpose."

Oghi bit his lip. "Are you saying the terrorists don't accept the new order?"

"There's not enough information for a definitive conclusion. However, if the person leading _this_ organization is brazen enough to come and do this much damage, you can't help but wonder how much pride they have in toppling this society. Who knows? Perhaps causing mass chaos wasn't even their goal; it was just an intended, merciless side-effect that came with trying to reach their objective."

Nunnally nodded solemnly. "And I agree; whatever their motive, they aren't doing it for attention. If they had, they would've used the hostage situation to bargain with international communities, rather than just retreat. If they objected to the new era, then they wouldn't have attacked Babel Tower. Civilians of every nationality were there, and from my experience, it's easier to mobilize when you have the people on your side. All they've done," she added darkly, "is scared those 'supporters' into running away."

"If they're trying to undermine our authority, then we've already got countermeasures in place," one representative stated. "Then again, they should know that-"

"So what is it then? What's their motive?" another asked.

"Could it be related to the Demon Emperor's demise?"

"Impossible! Zero put down all the remaining uprisings!"

"And our policies are geared towards promoting prosperity…"

One of the politicians leaned toward Suzaku. "Is this the same Alfheimr group you fought?"

Suzaku slightly turned toward the woman. "No," he answered, before going back to the now panicked group. "This is not the same Alfheimr. The group I knew was too scared to do anything, and relied on political blackmail to get what they wanted. Someone new has taken center stage, and has resumed the name of a former threat; it seems we're dealing with genuine extremists this time."

Nunnally frowned slightly, but brushed aside whatever was troubling her and continued. "Kaguya-"

"In my opinion your Highness," she replied seriously, "we should send out a warning to these terrorists and continue with the reconstruction efforts in both areas. If they attack anywhere else, we will not hesitate destroying them."

Oghi's eyes widened. "Hold on! Is there any chance these people can be reasoned with? Maybe before declaring war, we should at least-"

Nunnally shook her head. "That's no longer a viable option."

"What?"

"One of the officials from the terrorist group contacted me. They stated that-"

She was interrupted by a Black Knight, who came rushing in, panting as he struggled to make his presence known. Suzaku stood alarmingly. "What's happened?"

"It's Alfheimr! They're attacking the Palace!"

* * *

Why here, of all places?

Euphemia steadied the Knightmare and surveyed the screen carefully. She scoffed when she activated the black energy wings, taking to the skies with the radiant wave shields ready and waiting. She positioned herself in the front of the Palace and took in the fact that Arthur was using Lelouch's same assault position. She narrowed her eyes at the center of the army.

Strange, how the center was just…empty like that.

And they way they were all just charging at her too…

Euphemia huffed and thrust open the radiant wave surger. She flew at them, willing the machine to move faster and faster, until finally, she took charge of their twisted labyrinth. With the VARIS's special functions, she fired the barrage of missiles at whoever was in her way, and sliced the remaining Knightmares in half with the energy wings. Two of the Knightmares aimed for the Knightmare's head, but fortunately, were stopped by the Hadron cannons the Earl Asplund so happily gave them. She dodged an upcoming slash from one of the enemy pilot's swords, and blasted it away.

She thrusted the Knightmare forward, and slashed open the cockpit. From there, she removed the unnecessary pilot from the seat and used the enemy Knightmare as a shield against the ongoing onslaught. When she felt them encircle around her, she dropped the enemy Knightmare and, once again, moved the thrusters to full speed, taking them out in less than a blink of an eye.

She gritted her teeth. "You're so predictable…"

Again, the Knightmares were beginning to aim for her. She released the energy wings and fell immediately, before looking up and engaging the thrusters once more. She led them away from the Palace and began attacking openly, activating the slash harkens and yanking the enemy toward her own Knightmare. She removed one of her feathers and almost stabbed the Knightmare's abdomen when she was interrupted by a violent jolt from the back. Angrily, she turned.

That unit was different from the others.

She blocked out the transmission signals coming from Ella's forces, and concentrated on her own predicament. She destroyed her captive and kicked the enemy pilot away. It avoided the attack and dodged an upcoming slash harken, before spinning away and regarding the pilot evenly. She clutched the controls and stole a look down at the monitor; it seems Ella was doing a good job fending the Palace from the upcoming attacks. As long as Euphemia didn't take too long, there's a chance her sister will make it out.

She looked up, and zoomed in on the enemy Knightmare. The design reminded her of the Lancelot in a way, but it was also similar to the Samuel prototype. It was dark green, with black shields wrapped around its legs and arms. There were a three skeletal wings on each side, along with what appeared to be white energy wings, which took the shape of broken feathers, all of which seemed to contain what looked like material fished out of the mines.

They almost resembled Sakuradite.

 _Shit._

The Knightmare began charging at her with unprecedented speeds. Euphemia tracked its movements and adjusted her own machine accordingly, preparing the radiant wave shields, all the while ripping out the energy wings and grasping them tightly. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the Knightmare make the first attack; a sword. She moved to block it when she felt another hit on her own Knightmare's side. Something latched onto the side then, and started shooting down the machine's legs.

A VARIS?

 _And it won't come out?_

Euphemia's eyes widened, as she lifted the Knightmare's legs to knock off the pilot's cockpit. She grimaced at the warnings popping up on her screen, as she grabbed both the VARIS and destroyed it with the radiant wave surger. The shields managed to crush the pilot's sword, and she lowered the thrusters in order to shoot the Hadron cannon. She held the Knightmare in close range with the radiant wave surger, and proceeded to divert all energy to that one attack, all the while keeping up her defense mechanisms.

 _Euphie!_

Euphemia winced. "Suzaku! This isn't the time right now…! What?!"

The Knightmare broke it.

And shoved an active Sakuradite bomb into her core.

She flew away from the Knightmare, barely managing to stop the Hadron cannon from firing as she struggled with the unwanted interferences the radioactive core from the bomb was causing. She bit her lip, and proceeded to dig out the cannon from her Knightmare, knowing full well she was going to have to eject. She looked down at Ella's forces, and narrowed her eyes. If Euphemia can draw them away from her sister and get them to follow her…

That special unit cut her off before she could get any farther. She gritted her teeth and distanced herself once more, before firing at the Sakuradite bombs.

"Suzaku," she muttered, "jam the communication lines."

 _They've already been disabled._

She blinked, before stopping and turning around, the Sakuradite bomb already in the claws of the Knightmare. As expected, there were enemy Knightmares charging at her, all with the intent of killing close range. She threw the bomb at them just before it was going to detonate, and watched them burn. "What'd you mean?" she demanded.

 _No one can get contact us. We're offline._

"When were they disabled?"

 _A few hours just before we were attacked! Listen; Nunnally and I-!_

His thoughts cut off after that.

* * *

Kallen nervously looked behind her shoulder, trying to do whatever it took not to worry herself to death about Naoko's constant wonderings and stares.

It'd been a miracle that he hadn't been noticed for this long, but by now she's noticed that his luck was beginning to wear thin. Multiple classmates kept staring at him for a long period of time with those disgustingly disdainful eyes, as they taunted him, berated him, doing what they pleased in order to make him more submissive (not that he cared, or _noticed_ ). Many times over this week, she's had to put down a few rumors, and though the gossip had instantly turned to her, as well as the unwanted stalking and hate mails, she didn't mind it.

She smiled when she saw him sitting there, diligently taking notes without the slightest discouragement. She turned back and merely shrugged. Well, as long as the professor wasn't complaining about it, then everything was fine, right? And no one even knew he was there, especially in her Diplomacy class, so bit by bit, she found herself relaxing. Maybe she and Naoko could compare notes after class.

And in that split moment, her happy mood was ruined when the professor was suddenly on the ground, bleeding from what appears to have been a gunshot wound.

The men burst into the room with guns in their hands. "Get down!" they all screamed. "Get down or you'll be shot!"

Kallen narrowed her eyes and stood, when they fired one round of bullets, which broke all the windows in the classroom.

She rapidly turned and saw Naoko standing as well, trying to figure out what exactly what was going on. Her eyes widened, and mouthed, _Get down._ Surprisingly, he obeyed.

She breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to the men in question. "What the hell do you think you're-?"

"Shut up!" one of the men screamed, as they closed in on the writhing professor. "Cooperate and you'll be spared!"

Begrudgingly, Kallen joined her classmates, and regarded them evenly. She stole a glance at the desks in the corner, which did a good job at hiding him. She placed herself protectively in front of her classmates, and looked up.

"No one move!" another man screamed. "We've got the entire university surrounded, so don't even think about trying to escape!"

"What'd you want here?" she asked tentatively.


	22. Chapter 22

He's been in this situation before.

Naoko recognized everything before him, from the frightened, squirming victims, who were desperately praying that somehow, there'd be a miraculous way out, that all the soldiers would just fall dead even if the reality wasn't practical, to the antagonistic villains who were, for the most part, attempting to downplay the whole predicament with their failing charisma. The scene was just so familiar he couldn't help but be a bit impressed by the whole thing. He wondered if this was just something the acting troop had decided to perform on the student body, an unsightly prank that would've caused a majority of those unfortunate actors to be, at the very least, suspended.

A perfectly acceptable wish at the time.

His eyes carefully peeked from around the desk, examining the rifles that the men carried, then trailed toward the Britannian professor, who was being nursed by his students. They were all huddling in the corner, the hostages, cowering in fear with barely audible whispers of, "Why're they doing this?" He saw Kallen sitting at the very front of the group, calmly analyzing the situation, while trying to come to terms with saving whoever she can without causing a scene. Her gaze was trained at the guns they were carelessly swinging around, and she flinched every time the barrel took aim at one of the students.

He bit his lip. He remembered Gino describing TU to be a very reputable school, one well-known for its liberal arts program, and from what Naoko's heard, there was a lot of talk of the UFN scheduling their next conference here. Alfheimr was probably trying to make a statement then, telling the world that they weren't going to surrender to Zero, or to the Britannian Empress, or to anyone, for that matter. They could also be trying to secure a ransom, though with the "new order", there was no way of knowing if the superpowers would cave into the terrorists' demands or not.

The class had just gone over this group a week ago. No one knows where Alfheimr originated, but from what he could understand, the first major attack occurred at Ashford Academy. The incident alone instigated international concern, yet from there, Alfheimr never made another move; it seems they were taken down from the inside by the Black Knights. Since then, no one else has ever bothered mentioning the terrorist group; that problem just disappeared along with all the other ugly things in this world. Naoko was also reminded time and time again about how Zero put down the major rebellions just over a year ago, so the whole incident should've been resolved then. What more could they do? All of the world's superpowers opposed the terrorist organization, and trapped it to where they couldn't even move, so giving up would be the smart thing to do.

But all the same, the situation felt more complicated than that.

Naoko stole another peek at the men, who were still attentively standing, happily waiting for the students to resist. One of the men acted like he was going to pull the trigger, causing over half the students to whimper. The terrorists were all itching to gun them down; though he was far away, Naoko could make out the horrific temptation racing across their minds, the corpses reflecting on the glassy surface of their eyes. They kept leering toward everyone aggressively, taunting their victims with descriptions about what would happen should the men decide to kill the creatures, bragging about how no one would know if one or two students just turned up missing. They were even offering prostitution to both genders as a means for survival, if only temporarily.

That was another thing. Normally, even terrorist organizations would rely on popular support if they wanted to get something done. From what he could see, everyone wanted to forget them; they were a nuisance that didn't need to exit, no matter how harsh the judgement may seem. So even labeling them "terrorist" seemed an anomaly; if anything, the world was possibly a mere _seconds_ away from declaring all out war.

So why then?

Naoko remembered the way everyone kept avoiding him at the university, every expression embedded in his mind. He very well recalled Gino, who, behind his friendly facade, regarded him with contempt and envy, though Naoko had no idea why. No one liked the way he was always around Kallen, and even in a distance, he knew the rumors that were spreading around him like a sea of fire. Comparisons were made between he and "the Demon", and from time to time he would even catch Kallen staring at him strangely, as if he were but a mere ghost coming back to haunt her. It didn't trouble him much, of course.

However, would these men feel the same way? Would they have the same reaction as everyone here? It _was_ a good distraction, when you stopped to think about it.

He turned away. No, that speculation wasn't reasonable; there were strong resemblances between the two, but Lelouch vi Britannia's death was an international phenomena, and a majority of these men must've seen it. The soldiers would have no problem destroying him, and that alone was enough to gain the support of every student here. Besides that disturbing fact, personally, he didn't like the prospect of getting shot over and over again; it had to be highly painful. There has to be another way out. A vent or something.

But as the men continued their taunting, focusing a majority of their attention on a wounded Kallen, Naoko felt a flicker of tension rise from the atmosphere. Her order echoed through his mind, and he found himself frozen in place, unwilling to move from that spot.

"C'mon sweetheart," a soldier cooed softly. "We'll make an exception."

"What? Can't you do that for us?" another asked.

"What a lovely little whore."

He shut his eyes. No, that wasn't true. She wasn't that stupid, nor was she weak. He refused to hear the degrading lies. She was impeccable, better than anyone else here, and it was through that integrity he heard that dangerous growl rise from her throat.

But the sounds continued to bombard him with their unwelcome familiarity. "You _fucking worthless bitch_."

"Lay off; she's a good girl."

"I'm _bored_ you damn _slut-_ "

" _I said lay off."_

"Are you serious? We can just rip her legs off-"

"Like the last one? Not into that."

"I don't know," the man said softly. "There's just something about it. Can't escape. Can't get away. Can do nothing at all, but lie there-"

"And get screwed over."

Desperately, Naoko stood, grabbed his spiral, and threw it at the perverted men.

He never noticed their angered reactions, nor did he see Kallen's shock while he remained there, shaking violently. Sweat decorated the bottom of his palms, and his fingernails dug into his hands as he claimed their attention effortlessly. The adrenaline purged whatever doubts the boy had left in his mind, and casted a pitiful glare at their twisted, deranged minds. Naoko took a deep breath, and challenged them, emotionally, physically, all within the quiet, while searching for even the slightest chance that they'll back down.

The silence drove itself into the moment, drilling its predictable consequences into his brain, addressing itself to the helpless audience down below. A few students started to get up slowly, hoping they could use Naoko as a tiny diversion. Others remained where they were, the fear replaced by amusement, as they contemplated on whether or not Kallen's much hated companion would die today.

In their minds, this was all just harmless entertainment, and nothing more.

The men suddenly tore out their rifles, and aimed it at him precisely. Naoko kept himself away from the students, away from Kallen, who was now screaming for them to stop.

Then slowly, one by one, they eased.

And rather a sense of idiotic rage, confusion adorned their faces. Their lips kept moving, with no profane voice emerging from it. Again, that strange, commonplace sensation rooted itself into his mind, with that terrifying dream buried away in the folds of the present. Naoko blinked, and took one step toward them, to which they all hastily moved away.

"It's…it's him…"

"It's the fool…"

"What the hell is he-?"

"Y-you think he-?"

"Shut up!"

Naoko brushed away their words when his gaze trailed back to Kallen. He caught sight of her bruises, the scratches, the way her blouse had been unbuttoned; he saw the hesitation in her eyes, though simultaneously, he saw that fierce, irritated scowl that arose whenever he did something she didn't want him doing. Panic rose from his chest. He raced toward her, the soldiers now the furthest thing away from his mind.

But when he was only a few steps from her, someone painfully yanked him away, twisting his arm and making his body cringe in submission. He grimaced at the force and rapidly turned, finding one of the men staring down at him happily, the confusion gradually ebbing away. A sick curiosity gleamed across their faces then, as the soldiers leaned over, trying to get another look at Naoko.

"It's really you, isn't it?"

"Hey!" Kallen screamed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Naoko winced when the man's grip grew tighter. "How are you walking though? What'd you guys think?"

"Might be just some look-a-like."

"What? No way; you saw him too, right?"

"Okay that's enough, let him go."

The man refused, and instead, forced him to the floor. Naoko saw their scrutinizing gazes, surrounding him unpleasantly with their mental prodding. He could practically hear their thoughts, their expressions showing him every little dirty thought going through their minds.

After moments of what seemed to be careful pondering, the men finally dragged Naoko away from the crowds, much to his frustration. They tilted his head toward one lone corner of the ceiling, and sat beside him. From there, they pointed the rifle directly at him, and waited.

* * *

The men stormed in, taking whoever was unfortunate enough to simply sit there, and tremble while waiting for their bodyguards to come assist them. Nunnally sharply turned toward the assailant, before being dragged by the arm and shoved away from the hostages. One of the intruders yanked her brown locks wretchedly, causing her to grimace as they led her away from the crowds. She could hear all their frightened gibberish, as they screamed for someone, anyone, to rescue them from being a part of the next hostage crisis, though their prayers went unheeded. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Suzaku following closely behind, detained in the same, humiliating way.

She yelped when they dragged her farther, quickening their pace as the pain increased. Nunnally glared up at them defiantly, and was about to open her mouth when the men threw she and Suzaku inside an empty conference room. Her torso hit the edge of the table, the stinging pain erupting from her still fragile body. Her fingernails clutched the dark surface tightly, all the while biting down her tongue to keep herself from wincing.

Hesitantly, she examined the soldiers, who were now barricading the entrance. With rifles in hand, their empty, dark eyes carefully trained themselves on the two politicians. They all had the same expression, the same face which kept Nunnally sensitive to the position she was in.

There was a large screen in front of her silhouette, and on that screen was a man.

He had long, dark brown hair with pale skin that made every little shadow stand out drastically. There were purplish blue lines beneath his eyes, though inside those endless holes were piercing, black pupils that seemed to drown every little light endeavoring to caress them. He was wearing silver earrings, and had a light purple ribbon sewn onto his neck. He gazed at down at Nunnally cruelly, relinquishing whatever beauty his vanity let him hold, replacing it with a more callous ugliness which she couldn't help but cringe away from. "Lady Britannia," he greeted.

She knew that voice. "Were you the one who contacted me?"

He snickered haughtily. "I'm impressed. For such a small, fragile girl such as yourself, I didn't think you'd remember an insignificant conversation as that."

She closed her eyes, and assumed her unique, charismatic personal. She returned his smile with a single threat lingering beneath her lips. "What an odd thing to say. I recall you requesting Britannia's help before. Has Alfheimr gotten tired of us already?"

The man laughed pridefully. "Thankfully, no. But I've the slightest hints from your allies that you don't intend to cooperate with us. Is that correct, Lady Britannia?"

"Correct." Nunnally straightened herself, refusing to back down to the irritating terrorist. "And I believe I can speak for every representative here."

"You sound confident your Highness." he said as he leaned forward, pressing his chin against his hand. "You're willing to risk everyone else's lives here, along with your own, for the sake of that pride?"

"What do you mean by that?"

A second screen appeared from the bottom right hand corner. Her eyes immediately traced to the familiar lines of the school, along with an army of black Knightmares that were surrounding the building. When she took a step closer, the screen blurred, then carefully, it began to sharpen again, only to reveal the students inside. She bit her lip when she saw a recognizable, redheaded pilot sitting among the hostages.

And in those crowds, she saw a young man staring back at her with brilliant, nostalgic eyes. A light blue, oversized sweater, with ragged jeans that hid every ounce of his tall, scrawny body, and dark, heavy brown hair which barely covered his agitated expression.

Familiar, bloody memories escaped from her heart; the hateful sun's glare, the nightmarish cry of the crowds ahead, the executioner's block for which she was supposed to watch. The numbness took over her body, then and now, as she came to accept the burning of that scornful innocence, to which she was rendered useless. She watched it writhing pitifully, while she stayed there, fighting back whatever tears started to come down.

There he was, her beloved older brother.

Who was being held at gunpoint.

"Tokyo University, huh?" she whispered silently, forcing herself back to the reality she'd almost forsook.

The man raised an eye. "So, you obviously know these people."

"Let them go."

"Tell me, your Majesty, how would you feel if we simply decided to bomb the entire school? Just one little push-"

"They've nothing to do with this."

The man stared at her, scrutinizing her actions, before smirking victoriously. "I propose a deal then, Lady Britannia," he continued. "Do you see that boy, the one with the gun aimed at him? If you and your allies bring him to us, we'll back down, and pay whatever indemnities your allies see fit. A rather generous compromise, wouldn't you say?"

His words left her breathless. She clutched her sleeves, and slowly began shaking her head, her emotions overcoming whatever clear minded plans she had left. The similarities were just too similar, and even if her brother did die…

"Why?" she asked. "What is this boy to you?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "That is none of your concern-"

"It is if you're willing to threaten the world's representatives like this," she reminded hastily. "You're in violation of international policies, not to mention the indecent conduct you've established ever since we first caught wind of your organization."

He sighed. "He is an escaped convict, and a dangerous one at that. He is wanted for treason, so you must understand-"

"If he's that much of a nuisance, why not just execute him?" Nunnally pressed, narrowing her eyes as she examined the hostage once again. She remembered Lelouch's hatred against becoming a political pawn, to be used and thrown away like a piece of trash with utterly no purpose in some bigger game.

Yet they both were sent to Japan for that sole reason, weren't they? If anything, this problem mirrors that situation perfectly. "I have a hard time believing that."

"Our people want justice, nothing more. It's the same thing as-"

"What madness is this?" she finally asked.

"What?"

She felt that same, relaxed air she caught from Suzaku so long ago. That's right; before, both he and Lelouch would have some kind of plan in place, and it wouldn't be long before whatever trouble the three of them were in would disappear. It'd be like a distant nightmare that never took precedence in her mind. So she kept going. "All for one person too. Perhaps you should look at yourselves for a moment. Why is it our faults if your fool has left you? What right do you have to drag other _countries_ into your problems?"

"Maybe if you'd all just _aid-"_

"Don't forget we've attempted to help you before! Don't be so naive!" she shouted. "You've no right to ask anyone here for anymore favors! You can still resolve this if-"

" _May I remind you Lady Britannia?"_ the man hissed quietly. He chuckled darkly, glowering down at her with his own murderous intent. "You're in no position to bargain-"

"He doesn't exist!" Nunnally finally screamed. "What more do you want from us? An imaginary friend that's gone missing is of no concern of ours! Besides which, you cannot force everyone here to acknowledge Alfheimr, what with the work you've done! You-"

"My, my," the man interrupts. "You've quite the temper. You're not at all what he made you out to be. But what should I have more from a toddler? Practically half your country is run by immature children-"

"I don't expect you to understand."

"All my King wants is Mordred. That's all. Is that such a hard order for your people to obey?"

"You all really are delusional." She smiled briefly at Kallen, at the students, at the boy who looked so melancholically like her brother, then returned to the man. "Mordred. That's the boy's name, isn't it? Mordred."

Before the terrorist could say anything more, gunshots echoed from inside the room. A split second later, Nunnally saw him sitting there, in that screen, with four bullet holes neatly planted on his face.


	23. Chapter 23

Euphemia sat back in the cockpit, rubbing her temples frustratedly as the rescinded from the room. Her heartbeat pounded against her eardrums, her mind racing as she shifted through the hostages' faces over and over again. Dozens of frightened students came on the scene, with the anticipated tension rising with each moment past. They were all so similar in their emotions, their helplessness, to the point Euphemia couldn't tell the individuals apart, aside from the very few exceptions present at that moment. She thought back to the confused shock on Nunnally's face, to Suzaku's surprise, as well as her own relief, as they all came to grip with what appeared to be Lelouch on the screen.

She closed her eyes, and at an instant, replayed the senses which her own horrid spells examined every face in the crisis. Though that student's light, hopeful existence matched Lelouch's perfectly, she couldn't find the code which so callously adorned his body, nor did she find a trace of innocence that once claimed her attention. Moreover, he was mundane, and couldn't command the room as he had before. There was a very high chance, in fact, that her brother's presence, no matter how badly she wanted it, was not among the panicked crowds.

Yet Luzhin found it imperative they reach him, before anyone else.

Euphemia rapped her index finger along the controls impatiently, her brain bouncing back from one explanation to another without rest. Perhaps this was just another one Titania's dolls? Maybe it was just a lookalike? Was he just a product of some sick joke, a remnant of a past everyone would rather forget? Well, it was Luzhin who revealed him, wasn't it? The man was already losing his edge when she left the Courts.

Sill, Euphemia would rather not rule out amnesia. After all, memory loss was always a big issue when it came to identifying someone indirectly. And though he was different than before, the boy's resemblance to the former Zero was uncanny. From Suzaku's eyes, she could still make out his hypnotic, golden irises, irises she could only find with a certain witch who went missing long ago. His face stayed the same, as did his hair, and the remaining naiveté written all over his face.

And if it was amnesia, then it was probably due to a protective charm that somehow must've gotten stronger over the years. She remembered C.C putting something like that on Lelouch just before he left the Courts with Suzaku to investigate Alfheimr. Following Pendragon's attack and Vivian's death, Arthur usurped her control and forced her out of the Courts; he had Lelouch by then, so there was nothing hold him onto this reality anymore. He cut all ties with it, all evidence that might've led to his downfall in the future, time included.

And it was very possible that during those crucial moments, Lelouch purged all his memories.

Her finger stopped moving.

Time moves differently between here and the Courts. It was a very disturbing fact she had to keep reminding herself time after time. Even after the ordeal was over, she knew full well that once her control was established, she would have to keep an eye on the seconds which flowed from this world to that, the hours circulating from each creature that could possibly exist under the skies. If Euphemia had been forced out, there was no one keeping track of that time, no one that was even conscious of humanity, the fairies, and every little emotion tied up with the concept. The years would fly by faster, the torture more suffocating, longer-lasting.

Icily, she peered down at the torn up battlefield below her. Streams of Knightmare parts were scattered all over the area, along with a few limbs which were going to be cleaned up sooner or later. She caught a few sights of black, decaying hearts lying somewhere near the cockpit, with crimson painting the entire scenes both black and white in that suffocating nightmare.

"Luzhin," she murmured, "you really are an idiot, aren't you?"

She remembered the pigheaded fairy. It wasn't intentional, but his ideas were so arrogant and narrow-minded both she and Lelouch singled him out for ridicule. C.C never bothered taking him seriously either, and for the most part, he remained harmless. The man was also prone to acting on his own, doing whatever he deemed necessary to climb that somewhat confusing hierarchy; he'd be more than happy to trample on a few obstacles. It was that nature of his that made his moves so easy to predict, but then again, that made Arthur's moves easier to hide.

The initial main offense was weak, aside from that one lone pilot, who was now retreating back into the Courts. Nearly half of the enemy soldiers were disorganized, and had no idea where they were going, while the other half was just sitting there with the representatives, all of whom having no clear objective in mind. There was no motivation from any of them, and besides the emptiness which accompanied their darkened souls, Euphemia couldn't see any justification for their existence; not once did they show any physical signs of living. If that was the case, then they were all just decoys. Was this just a ruse then, to get to that boy without anyone knowing? Is that distraction all Arthur was planning on accomplishing.

Prime Minister Oghi was attending this meeting, along with the chairwoman Kaguya and the Empress Tianzi. All the officials let down their guard, thus they only brought a bodyguard or two, excluding Nunnally and Suzaku. Though the representatives were concentrated on one region, Japan should still be heavily guarded, what with the Zero Squad and UFN personnel nearby. Besides which, Tokyo University was well known for liberal arts, and practically all the students attending there were going to study international peace and diplomacy, so it's not like terrorist organizations could just flourish there. The UFN was globally influential, and anyone that deterred from that logic was going to get ostracized, economically and socially. Movement would be very difficult.

So how then? How did Arthur bypass all that?

Euphemia steadied the Knightmare onto the ground, and stared onwards at the scene, all the while reminiscing the many paintings in Arthur's gory galleries. She remembered depicting herself gloriously, Arthur's head in hand, as she ruled that sadistic graveyard with a victorious, radiant light shining down on her. She remembered standing there, helpless and vulnerable, dreaming of the day she would execute her former lover without any hesitation. She remembered losing her grip on that one ignorant sanity she used to hold so dear, in exchange for a benevolent madness that tossed her away in the blink of an eye. She remembered the dreams she enjoyed so happily, unwilling to acknowledge the lingering shadow which was painfully nearby.

And she couldn't help but wonder if Lelouch thought of the same things.

But what of C.C? Euphemia pondered on her actions from time to time, but never once did she give her friend any thought, aside from the many years the eternity she had to spend on this dying earth. She was capable, for one thing, and she was a good Knightmare pilot; when she wanted to, she could easily worm her way into the affections of others, and could get away with practically anything. Yet she chooses to rely on others, and that was something Euphemia could never understand. Though they shared the same tormentor, and though they were quite mindful of one another, Euphemia knew not one personal fact of the witch, besides her penchant for pizza.

Was C.C seeing this now? Did she know about Arthur? Was she gathering whatever troops Euphemia had left and rallying them for one last rebellion, as she had for Lelouch? Was she pressing ahead against her own nightmares, even if she no longer had anyone to keep them at bay?

Where was she, in this sick, nightmarish daydream?

Euphemia sighed, and concentrated on the screen down below. It seems that Cornelia managed to take down a majority of the opposing soldiers. Quite a pity really; her sister was planning on destroying Buckingham Palace to secure the hostages, just as she did the hotel jacking. From the looks of things the operation was proceeding smoothly, so it won't be long before everyone makes it out. Nunnally will be questioned, of course, but it's not likely she was going to tell anyone anything; this concerned her brother, after all.

"Suzaku, what happened?" she demanded.

 _Cornelia's gunning them down,_ he answered calmly. _The hostages will be coming out shortly. Nunnally is with the representatives right now, and they're going to meet in Vermillion again. I'm heading over to the Lancelot, and we'll take back the university._

So out of all the sophisticated, experienced politicians in that room, it was sweet Nunnally that had to calm everyone down. What an odd day this has been. "Then I'll remove the IF and meet you there. Will you be using the UFN's forces too, or just the Black Knights?"

 _I'm planning on bringing the first division and second division with me. I don't want anyone else finding out about this._

"Not the Zero Squad? This is Arthur, so you might want to consider bringing more soldiers to the fray."

 _I'll be fine. Besides, it's already a risky gambit. I can't have anyone finding out about you either._ She could feel Suzaku's confusion press against her brain, his mind bursting with incoherent questions in which only one surfaced. _What are you going to do?_

The day just gets stranger and stranger. "If that really was Luzhin, then there's a good chance that his men are the ones in TU, not Arthur's," Euphemia explained. "The ones that Cornelia and I fought were just some of Arthur's footmen. In other words-"

 _This was just a scheduled execution, right?"_

"Yes," she answered. "One of them was using Sakuridite, if you don't mind me asking."

 _As far as I know, neither Japan nor Britannia are in a formal alliance with Alfheimr. Unless of course, Nunnally and Oghi are working with them secretly, and are plotting world domination._

Euphemia smiled reluctantly. "Do the Black Knights have access to any of the mines in the Fuji Mountains?"

 _Not since Lelouch's death. Euphie-_

"I know." she said then, happily wringing her own thoughts together to construct the perfect, bittersweet end for which she was about to write. "But even if it's not him, I can't give Arthur the benefit of the doubt, can I?"

* * *

Suzaku cursed as the Lancelot revived, bringing him away from the chaotic scene altogether. He pushed himself away from the blood splattered pavements bearing at him lustfully, and discarded any further thoughts of hunting that one, single soldier down. Gradually, Euphemia pulled away from his mind, the soft dirge of that one nightmarish end still embedded in his emotions.

That was Lelouch on the screen.

It had to be.

Every frustration he felt, every antagonizing minute of having to relive that confusion many times over, was suddenly relieved. His knees were weak when he saw the monitor, and the weight of the realization was so great Suzaku almost collapsed. Golden, innocent orbs claimed both eyes, so much unlike the amethyst, distrustful ones, and neither one of them gave any hints to bittersweet memories that once rendered him speechless. There was something unnatural about the boy's expression, something that made Suzaku wonder if this really was the same person who'd given him so much grief, yet at the same time, had brought him so much happiness.

And from there, he looked like a normal, everyday college kid.

He never saw Nunnally's face when the screen first came up. He could only make out her surprise through her trembling shoulders, as well as the silence which revealed the tense reunion in only a few seconds. He was barely comforted when she managed to regain herself, and proceeding on with the insulting negotiation as if nothing happened. She never looked at him after that.

But this was no time for personal problems to get in the way.

Well, at the very least he's secured international cooperation, even if they aren't willing to do anything. With the major powers on alert, it'd be hard for Alfheimr to move without human allies, and he doubted that countries would find it prudent to aid them this late in the game. He could easily establish the UFN's trade zones globally, meaning Euphie and he would have a means to track down the terrorist group. They could even survey Kanime Island if they wanted to, as well as the Stonehenge.

"Zero!"

Suzaku nodded. "Todoh, get everyone to Vermillion. After that, rendezvous with Cornelia at Kyushu. Organize all forces, then proceed to Point one."

"What about the hostages?" His sensei asked calmly. "Do you have a plan to get them out?"

"I do. However, I don't want anyone engaging the enemy Knightmares, understand?"

"Alright." And with that, Todoh left, leaving Suzaku to his thoughts.

He gripped the controls tightly. The last time they spoke, Arthur spoke of wanting his fool back, and when he and Euphie conversed, she mentioned the same thing. And now that Luzhin had shown himself, it seems the answer was there, obviously clairvoyant despite its many misgivings.

Not to mention how utterly humiliated he was after this little incident.

He took a deep breath. "Euphie," he called. "I need a favor."

* * *

Just a hours minutes ago, they dragged Naoko away from everyone else.

He had no idea where he was going. He kept tripping over his heel as the men shoved him forward, prodding him with their gun barrels and knives. He tuned out their jarring tone, his eyes never leaving the ground, as he focused on their footsteps, the carpet signaling each wing they were moving toward. The tall, steel columns flying overhead stared down at the men, with the smooth glass reflecting the reporters gathering from miles away. Even that woman, Milly Ashford, was there, trying to hold everyone back, though the efforts were useless. The Knight Police surrounded the outer regions of the campus, endeavoring to make it impossible, or at least very difficult, for the terrorists to escape.

They were all factors that, of course, _weren't_ helping.

They were so far away Naoko couldn't tell whether or not they could even see any of the hostages that were in the courtyards, or on the second floor, pleading through the soundproof windows. The majestic oak trees situated outside were of little use, considering their long, twisted trunks shutting down whatever sight the onlookers had left. The iron balconies never served much purpose, aside from allowing the various intruders to walk around campus quite easily; from a victim's point of view, the situation did look pretty grim.

He glanced sideways, the cool reflections of the now empty cafe giving way to the panic within the soldiers' expressions; he saw a bit of terror in their faces, as they nervously whispered to one another, all the while degrading him so. Naoko narrowed his eyes, and slid his pupils around the vicinity; there weren't any monsters around. Why were they so afraid?

They stopped in front of the warm, auditorium doors. Two of the men grabbed both his arms and held him down, while the others opened the doors, revealing a dimly lighted, grand room filled with black leather seats. The large projector overhead was glaring down at him, and a slender, wooden podium was standing in front of it. The cool, metallic curtains were drawn back, revealing a black mirror that revealed the auditorium accurately. The entire scene looked so very surreal when empty, considering the number of times he's attended classes here with Kallen.

There was a young woman sitting in the front row, tapping her heels impatiently. Her snow white hair cascaded down to her nude back, which, surprisingly, did no harm to her prestigious, aristocratic air. The group of straggling men drew closer, Naoko squinted his eyes, and paused for a moment. The men did the same thing.

"General," one of them started. "We've-"

She stopped tapping her foot then, forcing them all into silence. She stood, and turned, her dark, indigo eyes gazing out with the danger lingering near her pupils. "Go," she ordered harshly, and they scurried off.

Naoko stayed where he was, as he examined the girl in front of him, who regarded him with that equally weird curiosity. Her bangs were neatly pushed away from her eyes, forming a neat little braid hiding behind her arm. She wore a long, white dress with long skirts that descended gracefully to the ground. Her bare shoulders were shown, though the sleeves were attached through a small, silver chain, one that housed a tiny pocket watch. There was a slit to the side of the skirt, revealing her elongated, black combat boots. She had a withered iris on her neck, along with dead leaves which curled around her already irritated skin.

Something wasn't quite right with this picture.

Though she wore heels, he could tell she was growing; a few more inches and she'd be his height. And though he didn't couldn't understand such an odd stranger, somehow she didn't seem like the type to behave so irrationally. The clean shimmer her hair gave off was uncomfortable enough, and the way she held herself so formally alone was grounds for concern. And where was that smile? Wasn't there supposed to be a smile after something like this?

He couldn't help but wonder where he'd seen this person before.

"Mordred?" she suddenly demanded.

Naoko blinked, stricken by the fact he was supposed to be conversing with the girl. Slowly, he began shaking his head.

She bit her lip, then stormed toward him. She grabbed his collar and pulled him against her body, her breath against his collarbone. Whatever gleam was left in her eyes gave out to uncertain grudges and regrets, both of which he recognized well. "Answer me. Are you or are you not the King's fool?"

That's right.

Those men called him a fool too, didn't they?

He had no memory of what happened before he met Kallen. Though he attempted to pry on multiple occasions, the redhead never gave him a straight answer. The only concrete detail she'd been able to provide was a golden bird cage, something Naoko found neither believable nor humorous. She wouldn't allow him to watch those videotapes of the Demon Emperor, and whenever she was around, she wouldn't let him to go outside by himself either, even when her fears were completely unfounded. There were many times when she didn't want him going to the university with her, and whenever she did manage to get him to stay at home, all he could ever do was watch TV, or make dinner, or do house chores, or whatever mundane task came next, at least, to her knowledge. She would frequently call home to make sure he was still inside, and would threaten him whenever a certain silence persisted through the nonexistent conversation.

The strangeness of it all consumed him quite easily, and it'd gotten to the point where he would take the phone with him and go outside, without a care in the world. If she called, he would go somewhere quiet and answer it. The places he went wasn't anywhere dangerous or conspicuous, though his outings were frequent enough for some of the neighbors to take notice. Thankfully, Kallen never saw anything.

At times, he couldn't help but wonder what his former life was like. _Was it better than this one?_ was the question he would always ask himself. Was it carefree? Did he have to wait for someone all the time? Could he do whatever he wanted to without someone breathing down his back? Yes, he was grateful to the Black Knight for allowing him to stay at her home, and he knew full well how a majority of people would treat him should he leave, but the emotions never deterred him.

So he never answered the woman. He only gave her a sad, apologetic smile. He simply didn't know.

Slowly, she loosened her grip, and allowed him to breathe just a tiny bit more. She closed her eyes in frustration, before opening them again and shoving him back, causing him to fall to the ground. "What an odd curse," she murmured quietly. "Tell me boy, who put that curse on you?"

Curse?

He started to open his mouth when she cut him off again, this time to answer her own musings. "Curse. No, charm. Feels like a charm." She looked back at him. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Carefully, he nodded.

She narrowed her eyes. "Can you talk?"

 _No._

She resumed her militaristic demeanor and folded her arms. "I'll repeat myself; are you or are you not the King's fool?"

 _No._

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I doubt my men would make a pitiful mistake like that. Tell the truth."

His eyes grew wide with surprise, before nodding. _I am._

Apparently, she misunderstood. "Are you the one we've been looking for?"

 _No._

She huffs, and resumed her threatening, hostile behavior. "I am General Lisette Pendragon. Does that name sound familiar?"

Does that name sound familiar? Lisette?

Yes, it did.


	24. Chapter 24

Euphemia smiled warily, as she sent the schematics of the university to Suzaku. Her eyes scanned the university's internal structure, all the while gazing at the very few Knightmares guarding the vicinity. She narrowed her eyes, before landing the Knightmare one mile away from the school, a very unpleasant thought jabbing her on the side.

They look different. Rather than the normal six, there were only two energy wings this time, both of which carried massive feathers that might as well have acted as a shield, similar to the Guren S.E.I.T.E.N. The frames were larger, and though they were barely visible, she could make out the Blaze Luminous strapped to both their arms. They carried dual swords on the hem of their waists, with the VARIS very well strapped to the Knightmare's legs. In a way, they looked more like the Gloucester Cornelia used to use.

The head, however, was a bit of an anomaly.

It was nothing more than a mere skull, with the fangs protruding grotesquely from the mouth. Gaping holes revealed nothing of the Knightmare's internal structure, and along the archaic helmet decorating the top, there was nothing of value from it. In fact, Euphemia might've even guessed it served as a decoration for Arthur's glory.

Yet there was something dreadful residing in it, and it felt like she was missing one, important flaw. It wasn't a power source, nor was it the old Factsphere that left the pilot vulnerable to automatic emergency ejection. The metal flesh was brimming with anticipation as they reflected the many details down below.

Her eyes returned to the screen, which was now loading the data used by the enemy, while relaying the plan mentally. Though this was Arthur they were dealing with, just to get back to this world he's had to lower his defenses just a tiny bit, meaning there were bound to be blind spots his soldiers missed near the University, however few they may be.

If Euphemia doesn't do too much with her magic, she'll go undetected, which wasn't going to be much of a challenge; all she'll have to do is distort the enemy's senses. Afterwards, she'll slip in as one of Cornelia's soldiers and take heed to every order. Suzaku, meanwhile, will place some of his soldiers into the chaos and get everyone out, that boy included. The Ace will be outfitted with the Guren, and from there, they'll secure the hostages and the fighting will begin. Once Arthur's forces retreat, she'll be able to talk with him privately, and hopefully, if her suspicions were confirmed, track down C.C.

But the main problem here would probably be the enemy's loyalty. Though Arthur wasn't present, he's managed to instill fear in a few top ranked officials. And, for the sake of their pride, they'll follow any order, no matter how demeaning it was. It was also incredibly troublesome that those cowards were just as powerful as they were afraid; they all had some experience on the battlefield. Their own magic began seeping through the protective barriers she's instilled along Suzaku's boundary, breaking down whatever sanity they both managed to build until now. Illusory powerful glistened from every Knightmare, and though they were few, she knew they weren't the half-baked criminals she's fought from before.

There was also the Knightmares stationed underground. Though recent renovations helped stabilize the school after the second assault on Tokyo, it was still incredibly fragile. The monsoon seasons have eroded away a majority of the ancient columns, and along with the ice widening the cracks, it was a miracle the school had held up at all. Arthur's men no doubt would sacrifice the entirety of the hostages, even if they were taken along with it. They've already secured multiple escape routes for the remaining students and faculty, but it'll be a problem if the enemy started interfering with them. It'll be a very gruesome bloodbath then.

But what was most troubling was the similar air Arthur's magic was producing, an atmosphere that almost managed to twist her heart painfully, and peel away the skin from her body. Haunting whispers kept stabbing her ears, while what felt like claws kept dragging her organs from the inside out. And she knew the spells used then; it was the very same enchantment she used to torture Arthur. She couldn't help but wonder if Suzaku was experiencing the same thing.

The presence felt so very familiar, almost an amalgamation of Vivien and Merlin at once. But there was another person behind the scene, someone who was already beginning to clog up the opportunities laid down on the table. She could fear their hands manipulating each pawn at this moment, doing whatever they desired if only to achieve the level of humor Arthur had promised them. Cold and calculating, emotionless and empty, all of which were apart of a being who had little left for them in this life. Where were their memories? What of compassion? Mercy? Salvaged promises? Did they have no place left in that person's heart?

But, at the same time, it was so very similar too…

She sighed, then with one, single murmur, she jammed the surveillance cameras. The screen flicked back to the building schematics. Euphemia jumped slightly when she felt Suzaku seemingly forcing his way her mind. "Everything's ready," she said softly. "You've got about five minutes before hell breaks loose."

 _Right. Thank you,_ he replies. She never bothered seeing through his eyes; she already knew where he was, with the university doors looming their foreboding shadows near the Lancelot. Nunnally was probably still talking with him, as was Kaguya and Oghi. Todoh was with Cornelia, and any reporters left standing in the way have been safely removed. That boy must be terrified right now. "Suzaku."

 _Hmm?_

"Why do you want to be the one to get Lelouch?" she asked. "He probably doesn't even remember you, so I doubt he has any useful information for you."

He was quiet for a bit. She folded her arms across her chest, and ignored everything around her. What's wrong? They were friends, weren't they?

Finally, he spoke up. _You wanted to save him, didn't you? And he's my friend, after all._

"I highly doubt that's the only reason." Euphemia watched the enemy Knightmares floating aimlessly around the skies, giving no indication she's been seen yet. This really was a good place to hide.

After a few more moments of silence, she heard the man sigh. _I can't really get anything pass you, can I?_

"Suzaku."

 _Euphie, tell the truth. Was Lelouch really your fool?_

"He was."

 _Was he the only one?_

Her eyes twitched. "Where did this come from?"

 _Whenever you lie, you look away._

Euphemia froze, the surprise etching its heartless tendrils into her body. She sat back in her seat, and allowed a tiny, sad smile to tug at her lips. "When did that bad habit start?"

 _When you weren't talking with me, back when we were still trying to find him._

So that was it then? That was how he knew? He was awfully observant of his own loved ones, paying attention to the tiniest of actions, no matter how insignificant they were. She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came from it. She tried again, only to fail once more. She bit her lip, and dug her nails into her knees, leaving two gaping, bleeding holes. Her brain returned to that presence, and with that, she resolved herself to her lover's interrogation. "I see. Yes, it's true. There was another fool. I believe you already know her, don't you?"

 _C.C?_

The hurt was so evident in his voice Euphemia had to force down a laugh. "Correct."

 _Why bother hiding it though? What was the point of that?_

"That's right. Normally, I wouldn't tell you, because I didn't think it'd be important, at least, not for this. But that's changed." She watched carefully as the black Knightmare turned around, its green eyes abruptly changing to a very dark red. She'd been caught. "Both Lelouch and C.C were serving me, as fools and as Viceroys to the Courts."

 _Viceroys? Then just how much control did they have over-_

The connection cut off after that.

* * *

Suzaku watched the operation unfold. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Todoh's group getting ready to infiltrate the university's lower ducts, with Cornelia's forces backing him up. The remaining UFN's military forces are hijacking the mainframes and distorting the signals so that information couldn't get in, or out. The monsoon seasons have left the university aqueducts more than flooded, and with the instability all the fighting will cause, more than half of the campus might just fall.

They were all on a time limit.

Enemy Knightmares have already found Euphie, and that prompted the move on his part. Suzaku adjusted the receiver in his ear as he joined the forces on the front lines. The Knightmares were moving so fast; he needed Euphie and Cornelia to take them out to avoid any further casualties. "Everyone in position. Hong Gu, secure the west wing. Xing-ke, take the right. Block them so they can't get out. Get everyone in there and get all the hostages out."

"Got it."

He centered the Lancelot into the midst of the battles. He forced the thrusters into the frigid air, and with his sword, sliced them in half. He landed on the ground, pulling out the slash harkens and decimating the remaining forces nearby. His eyes quickly scanned left, then right, before moving into the campus. The second division will be securing the underground, while Todoh and the others will clear out the levels nearest to the aqueducts. Lelouch was probably escorted away from the classrooms, and since Arthur won't allow his precious Mordred to die, the search was winding down.

Euphie really did pick up Lelouch's habits. Though she had to make more of a conscious effort to lie, the prospect was disturbing enough. What's more, she was being more secretive than necessary, especially when it comes to the Courts. Suzaku remembered his friend's words, to stay out of it and let them take care of things.

So why?

Why would Lelouch let things get so bad?

"Zero, we've found Kozuki!"

"Bring the Guren to the Kashiwa Center. I need to speak with her for a bit."

Though Euphie managed to bar a few of her senses from him, Suzaku could make out the traces of threatening emotions vibrating throughout the air. The usual humidity felt like he was drowning, though he was still in the Lancelot, and the thick wind seemed to take pleasure in throttling him. There was no specific target; as long as people were alive it didn't matter whether or not the curse was attacking the ally. The humming was so chaotic he could barely hear anything.

He took another breath when he heard Kallen's voice. He narrowed his eyes. "Zero, I'm here! I'll join you as soon as I-"

"You will assist Cornelia on the battlefield," he commanded.

"But what about-?"

"I'll take care of the hostages and the remaining Knightmares. Wait for my orders, understand?"

There was only silence during those crucial moments. Suzaku waited tentatively for her answer, all the while scanning the vicinity to make sure no other civilians were involved. He could easily make out the hesitation in her voice, before finally, she agreed. "Yes sir."

"Good." He cut off the communication line after that. He kept on with the Lancelot, racing through the wide avenues as he separated the hostages from the enemy. There was one Knightmare up ahead, and unlike the rest, it didn't have any energy wings. It was probably just an older model, one his sword could easily tear apart.

As he moved forward, he couldn't help but contemplate Q-1's now questionable loyalty. No, she will follow Zero, as well as the Black Knights; if need be, she would sacrifice her own life to preserve the peace so many people have died for. It'd be expected of her.

His eyes flickered toward the rampaging war zone, and grunted. Arthur wasn't here, and his men were still trying to confirm Lelouch's identity before taking off; there wasn't going to be any mistakes here, no matter how tempting it was.

Kallen. If it turns out that she _did_ find Lelouch, then that was going to be a very big problem.


	25. Chapter 25

The battlefield called out to her helplessly, drawing the Guren in with those old, familiar promises of liberation and justice for some silence that was purged so very long ago. There were orders raised through the emotional, rampant scene, from both ally and enemy alike. Gun shots rang from the two sides as if the crimson reign were some memorable dance no one could possibly hope to understand. The rising tides were threatening to bury the university, the terror alone causing a majority of the remaining bystanders to run away from that niche of hell, and the icy, winter winds plummeted the foot soldiers mercilessly, with their already scattered plans thrown in disarray.

Classrooms were destroyed, the windows breaking every few seconds. Glass shards decorated the ground, surrounding each soldier carelessly, immature in all this madness. From the side, she could make out the main audience within the nightmarish ballet, people who were watching the dance unfold dramatically before their eyes, breathlessly observing every move made, every mistake which resulted in the formidable routine to be changed time after time. As the destruction unfolds, the curtains gracelessly pulled away from the entire performance, Kallen moved away, and shifted those temptations toward her own desires.

She knew she was disobeying Zero. She knew she was putting herself, her comrades, and the other hostages in danger. She knew she was acting like a simple, spoiled brat, whose temporal toy was taken away by its rightful owner.

And at that point, Kallen couldn't have cared less.

Her dark eyes flickered toward the screen, analyzing the enemy Knightmares as they rose into the air. Enemy soldiers kept shooting at her, their bullets flying away from the crimson machine while she searched hastily for that one, lone creature. Her heart pounded against her ears, her hands concentrating on every route to which she took, not allowing the adrenaline or fear to disregard her nervous determination completely.

It wasn't likely that Naoko was taken with the rest of the hostages; she was certain they haven't taken him away from the university yet, since, initially, the chaos hadn't even begun, aside from the fact the terrorists never even bothered to retreat. He wasn't a student here, so it's not like Zero or Nunnally or anyone else could just track him. That very instance alone gave Kallen the time she needed to find him before anyone noticed anything.

Yet the problem was more complex than that. Judging from the reactions soldiers gave her, it seems he was, and still is, incredibly important. A fool, they called him. A fool that might've held more prestige than those men, the loyal soldiers. A fool that may have performed for some outdated monarch. A fool who escaped that imprisoned life to live his own, without fear of prejudice or social suffocation.

And Kallen had to ask herself then, was he worth all of this? Was he worth all of this fighting, even when the world had just entered an era, in which peace reigned? What were they going to do with him once they capture him? Kill him? Sell him? Use him as a bargaining tool?

Was that boy worth sacrificing Lelouch's tragic requiem, a grave that entitled the world to its self-absorbed, disillusioned peace? An appeal to humanity, even when that lie was used to cover up its horrid mindset of revenge and hatred? An ending that Kallen couldn't be satisfied with, though she knew that, in the end, it was the right thing to do?

Apparently, it was.

She looked up then. Out of all the places that were being attacked, the auditorium still remained, unguarded and isolated. There weren't any classes going on there, no special events that the campus wasn't informed of. Everyone was supposedly evacuated, leaving only soldiers fighting, all armed and ready to kill.

They weren't going to let someone as precious as Naoko anywhere near the battlefield.

She readied the radiant wave surger in the Guren's hand, and with one thrust, she shoved it into the building, tearing away bits of concrete and wood. Wires flew from her sight as she burst into the room, forcefully removing the rubble away from her sight.

And there he was, just standing there, lost in his own thoughts.

And along with him, there was a white-haired woman next to him, who seemed just as shocked as she was.

Kallen growled and moved the Knightmare in, shooting at the woman with her VARIS. While the woman dodged the bullets, Kallen positioned herself behind Naoko, the Guren's wings shielding both from the whatever threats lingered near.

She looked down hurriedly, then extended the Guren's arm and opened the cockpit. "Naoko! Get in!"

Slowly, he turned to her, with hesitant eyes.

She flinched at his confused expression, then hissed, "What'd you think you're doing, just looking at me like that?! _Get the hell in!"_

That woman was screaming something, and he turned back, tilting his head a bit.

"Naoko!"

He stood there for a few more seconds, before turning away and grabbing onto the Knightmare's claws. Relieved, she brought the arm up to the shoulder, where he silently slipped behind her seat and sat on the floor. She closed the lid and maneuvered away from the woman, someone Kallen dared not look at again. The energy wings soaring through the midst of the fray, never acknowledging the piercing air which carried the Guren.

Her eyes flickered toward his emotionless face afterwards, during that brief, yet eternal interlude. "Did you know her?"

 _Yes._

She narrowed her eyes, then returned to the battle at hand. She sought out Cornelia's forces, which were now engaging the hidden Knightmares, and struck through the enemy's assault with the slash harkens. She clenched her fists, bringing her own, murderous intent behind the princess's lines. She twisted the controls and maxed out the thrusters, ripping away the remaining Knightmares with the Guren's claws.

"Hold on," she murmured.

* * *

Suzaku tore through the university, the Lancelot brushing past the fallen enemy soldiers, while his senses scanned through every room he passed, every tiny corner he could have missed. The humidity was gradually ebbing away from his body, before being reducing to nothing more than tiny splashes of agony here and there. As the uncomfortable, subtle grip of magic disappears from his body, his own presence began brimming from within the Knightmare, pouring out from that one, hellish, destructive masterpiece he managed to surround himself with.

He could feel Euphie's frustrations mirroring his own, reflecting whatever doubts the two had in their minds, though hers were more prevalent. Her lavender eyes seared their color into his own, never once letting go from his pupils. That tinge of rose reappeared upon his bangs, as he started sweeping through the area, not letting a single, twinge of blood bypass him. With one breath, he pushed through Euphie's barrier, and began decimating the entire area one by one, separating each object from one another, living from nonliving, enemy from ally, savagery from civilized. He gripped the controls, the white Knightmare commanding more and more attention from the enemies at hand, while gorging out whatever obstacles still remaining.

He grimaced. There was no one else in the school, aside from himself and a few other Black Knights. From the looks of things, there were no deaths either, the bloodstains coming from a few stray bullets which callously targeted whatever unfortunate limbs were in the way. His gaze shifted sideways when he heard Cornelia's voice from the other end. "Zero, how are things in your end?"

He frowned, staring out at the destruction both sides have caused. Coupled with the natural flooding that was soon to take place here, it seems they've done all the damage that needed to be done. "There are no other hostages," he replied, "and the enemy is being forced back. Tell Nunnally that the takeover was a success."

He heard that recognizable, prideful smirk from the ex-military commander. But it was then followed by a suddenly humble, cautious whisper. "Did they take any of the hostages with them?"

"No. All students, faculty, and visitors have been evacuated. As soon as I get back we will resume the conference at Vermillion."

"Right."

"Zero, we've finished up here," he heard Kallen say breathlessly. He narrowed his eyes then, as Cornelia withdrew from the conversation altogether, apparently now appeasing the concerned reporters who were astonished by the horrifying display.

Euphie told him that those soldiers were also just some of Arthur's footmen, but for some reason, Suzaku had a hard time believing that simple fact. Just from what he witnessed today, those mediocre fighters were more skilled, more experienced, and more obedient. Though there was nothing stopping them from carrying out a disastrous mission like this one, every failure meant another advance for them. Arthur knew how to separate win from loss; he wasn't that childish.

What if, then their main offense wasn't concentrated at Buckingham Palace, but rather, here?

"Q1," he started slowly. "I want you to go to Horai Island, and remain there until the conference is over."

"Of course. What about Todoh and the others?"

"They will accompany Lady Kaguya and Prime Minister Kaname to the Chinese Federation."

"Yes. Is that all, Zero?"

"It is."

As Kallen's presence faded from the battlefield, Suzaku sat in the Lancelot, recalling every detail which happened on that blood-soaked evening. He's killed off the soldiers, which alone was insulting enough for Arthur to target Japan, though at this point, retribution might as well have been some faulty excuse to avoid any sense of responsibility to the mistake beforehand. Arthur wasn't that impulsive; there was deliberation and careful planning, manipulation and cunning, low toleration for anyone who decides to act on their own, whether it be for his benefit or for that of Alfheimr.

It wasn't likely that he was going to care for anyone else other than whatever unfortunate person who became the target of his obsessive desire. Euphie alone could describe the pursuit with frightening accuracy, and it was that very same lust that found Lelouch so easily. There was no motive otherwise that would've led Arthur to attack the university.

His mind returned to that screen, from which Luzhin showed the boy with the golden eyes, telling the obvious lie that he was a criminal that needed to be fatally corrected, a lie that no one believed. He looked around again. Euphie's initial speculation was wrong; it seems Arthur did make a move this time, though he used Luzhin as bait. But simply luring the nations away from the boy seemed a bit too simple; something told him there was another reason behind the attack, a notion he wasn't too fond of. Yet it was the only thing that instinctively made any sense at all.

Kallen. She was the only one who, along with Suzaku managed to get through to the Courts. From Euphie's little warning, there was no telling what the pilot could have seen. But though it seemed unlikely, that Arthur, vain and spiteful in all his glory, would just stash his sweet Lelouch in some dead end, there was no doubt that she knew that boy within the room. Though it was subtle, he could tell her movements reaching out toward him, revealing actions filled with informality and rage over a simple prospect of disobedience.

And it was clear then, what had happened that night.

* * *

Euphemia distanced herself away from the enemy Knightmare, wings spread out, her sword clashing with their own. She moved away immediately, narrowly dodging the pilot's blade. She looked up, then threw the Knightmare forward, the attack, once again, blocked by the enemy. She held up the VARIS and began shooting at the head, only for them to dodge each bullet. She threw one of the wings in front of her, blocking another one of the cannon's blaze.

The battle wasn't easier when that hostile spell kept bringing her down, throwing her to the midst of the pain without any hesitation. The sensation of having your body ripped apart cell by cell was enough for the pilot to damage Euphemia. What's more, the enemy kept getting into Euphemia's blind spot with the same, technological advancements that were owed by skill, something not even a skill Suzaku possessed.

No; this person didn't rely on magic. There was someone else working with them.

She took a deep breath, sweat glistening from her forehead as she engaged the enemy once again. That barrier wasn't letting up, but she knew full well that this would've been the perfect opportunity for reinforcements to arrive. At this rate, if the battle continued to be drawn out, all of Tokyo will soon be engulfed by the battle, leaving not only the civilians, but the UFN's main systems exposed.

She grunted when the enemy attacked again, this time from the bottom up. Euphemia tore out the Knightmare's wings and began her assault, driving the makeshift swords into the shield. When the pilot blocked the attack, she bombarded them with two slash harkens, which drove a wedge between her and the Knightmare. She flew in again, lowering her defensive mechanisms as she wielded both feathers in her grasp. She dove for the pilot, ignoring the searing suffering her limbs were undergoing, blocking out the red in her vision as she dodged every bullet the pilot flew at her, using the sun as a barrier against their attacks.

There.

And with little effort, Euphemia dove the feathers into the Knightmare's frame, then destroyed it with little kindness.

Though the pain never stopped, she eased the Knightmare in the skies, and watched as the rest of the enemy forces being driven back. She grimaced when a throbbing, piercing headache inflicted her so readily, so much so she doubled over. There was a sharp pressure jabbing her mind, murdering it with every psychotic passion existed from first to last breath. Something was attacking her magic, something heavy and cruel that wasn't supposed to have entered the battle in the first place. Her eyes scanned quickly for any enemies suddenly reappearing on the board.

No, that was it.

She took a deep breath as Ella's forces closed in on the university. There were no new reinforcements, no new openings that came anywhere near the school. She kept her senses trained on Kanime Island, but no fairy came through the ruins, nor the Stonehenge. They were retreating.

What drew them all to this place anyways? Was it the prospect of Lelouch being here that tempting for Arthur, that he'd let one of his men run wild with the operations? Was he that lustful for blood and war and chaos? But that didn't sound like him at all; in fact it'd be out of character for him to be so insane and psychotic, since he devoted all his time to his own illustrious pride, rather than settle with a concept as grim as violence.

Euphemia balled her fist, then slammed it onto the edge of the screen. " _What the hell, Arthur?"_ she muttered. "Just what are you after anyways?"

She froze.

"Suzaku! Did you find him yet?"

After a few tense moments, his weary voice sounded from her mind. _He's not with the hostages. But he hasn't left the barrier, right?_

"No." She gripped her controls tightly, biting her lip so hard she drew blood. "What are the odds that someone picked him up?"

 _Remember, both the Black Knights and the Britannian soldiers were fighting in the air, so I don't think he could've just hijacked someone's Knightmare Then again, I don't sense him either in the rubble, and let's not forget Alfheimr doesn't want him dead._

She felt herself shaking in anger. That wasn't possible; even if he had lost his memories, it's not like the boy could just slip away from their sight like that. Were they that incompetent they would let him slip from their grasp? She took a deep breath, the poisonous spell beginning to leave her body steadily, and with that, she fought down a scream.

Suzaku continued. _Both Cornelia and I have agreed to meet up at 6-C1. The battle was broadcasted all over the media. From the looks of things, everyone thinks we've won._

"But it's a stalemate, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "Do you think he's been killed?"

 _No. You saw the screen; Alfheimr would never harm someone that important. Unless of course, they decided he wasn't Mordred, and executed him right then and there._

Euphemia slid her sight toward Cornelia's troops, who were celebrating their victory, though they were poised for attack. She could hear the contemplation in his voice, and the very instance that he mentioned Lelouch's death, without any hint of remorse, was suspicious alone. "Suzaku, what is it?" she asked darkly. "What are you hiding?"

 _A secret,_ he answered vaguely.

"And you won't tell me about it?"

 _If the premonition is wrong, then I can spare you some disappointment,_ he joked sarcastically. _Is that alright with you, milady?_

"That's not like you Suzaku, keeping secrets." She raised a delicate eyebrow, piecing together the dark, neglectful tone with every word spoken. "Does it have something to do with Lelouch?"

 _Perhaps. I won't know unless I check with a certain soldier of mine._


	26. Chapter 26

Naoko watched the grey onslaught of reporters and Knightmares frantically leave the area, both the army and police retreating desperately in efforts to keep up with Zero and Cornelia li Britannia. And while the skies kept themselves from the ground, doing whatever they could to salvage the situation with any military remedies necessary, camera flashes kept reappearing everywhere. Frantic pleas and screams kept calling for interviews and statements, derogatory statements of conspiracy and scandal temporarily floating through the air, before, at last, resigning themselves to waiting upon their subject's long-awaited return. A few vans sped away, trying to keep up with the Knightmares' unbeatable pace, while others kept their TV cameras trained on the higher officials, all of whom still reeling from the recent battles within the skies. By the time they regained their posture, their supporters were already happily dubbing it a "win for justice and peace, a loss for terrorism and war."

Naoko observed them for another moment, before putting on his jacket, pulling the hood over his face, and slipping through the crowds. Though he could barely see, he managed to worm his way through the moving blockade without causing much of a scene. But from the corner of his eyes, he caught a few stray looks wandering through the audience, their unsettling eyes fixated on him. And before he knew it, they were following him.

He could hear their footsteps tracking him, suspicious whispers crossing here and there, with the unpleasant jab of rumors piercing his ears. He could practically see thee microphones in had, the determination in their faces as the journalists continued on with their mission. He closed his eyes, and weaved his way through the sea of bodies, holding his breath and praying they would leave him alone after a minute or too. Much to his relief, when Naoko turned back, there was no one pursuing him. He gave the mass of people a long, hard stare, before resuming his semi-jog.

He kept his gaze down, and effortlessly avoided the still angry, humiliated neighbors, who were all trying to see what chaos had spouted on their territory. He tugged Kallen's bag to his shoulders, and threw his bangs in front of his eyes, while he kept moving, willing everyone away from his presence. A few times over, people managed to see him, though at that point, the terrorist attack took prominence in their minds, and they let him off with a glare. Naoko returned their gaze and continued on.

 _Go home,_ was what Kallen told him. _Go home and wait until I came back, but until then, don't go outside._

He was a bit unnerved by her determination, but nevertheless, impressed by her conviction. After all, this was the first time he was able to see her work up close. He enjoyed being with her on the battlefield, watching her take out the bad guys without another thought of her own safety. He heard her shouting orders at her subordinates, keeping them alive for a few more seconds while overpowering them with verbal assaults and insults. Though he's seen her like that at home, the air around her was completely different, a twinge of professionalism decorating her every move. She was neither cruel nor heartless, and only thought of keeping him safe until the fight was over.

But it was her skills that managed to draw him in. She was nothing like Naoko's, who, though precise, kept his fickle mind moving from one topic to another, casting away every advantage while maintaining his own, defenseless state. Every action had force behind it, strength in which he knew he could never possessed. She remained focus, even when the enemy bombardment shook the Guren with their erratic flight patterns and eroding attacks. She was strong, capable, and adept.

Which made her orders all the more frustrating to take.

As he ran through the streets, maneuvering away from the dark, icy shadows and slippery turns, he sought another lingering glance at the skies. Even from here, he could see the red Knightmare leading the army, and a pang of jealousy struck his heart. He wondered what kind of stuff the Black Knights did, aside from humanitarian aid. Where they went, what countries they visited, what languages they spoke, what sights they saw; all of it he was envious. He wanted nothing more than to experience what Kallen and all the rest had, even if it was just a brief second of bliss.

What was the problem then?

Why wouldn't Kallen let him out?

And in that split instant, the woman called Lisette came back to his mind.

There that girl was, seemingly with all the answers to those long, sought after prayers, giving rise to an emotional illusion where his will dominated over everything. Although she kept calling him "Mordred", and though he knew full well that the name wasn't his, he recognized Lisette from somewhere. Callous as she was, there was a small, childlike spark, from the way she spoke and cheered, to those last, desperate moments when he escaped her grasp. An unconscious memory would surface, and though he could never see it, his body would act on its own, refusing to move when he told it to, frozen in the very time he lost himself in.

And that was all he could do during that moment; just stand there and listen.

She spoke of how wonderful it'd be to go back, how happy everyone would be when he finally returned. Of course, the king was worried sick, but other than that little aspect there was nothing to fear. Banquets and parties will be thrown throughout the realms, she kept on, and no creature, big or small, will be able to escape the festivities. What's more, Naoko could even perform again, for adoring eyes and praises on end, underneath a violet moon with shadows following his procession. He could do whatever he wanted to, eat whatever he could, and as long as he was under the watchful eye of his Majesty, then everything will be fine. His home was waiting for him, after all.

All of which would take place inside a golden cage, thrown atop a silver pedestal for everyone to see.

Passing through the now empty shops and abandoned avenues, Naoko scanned the streets for any of the tourists who used to flock to the scene, giving the pseudo-medieval setting its much needed vibrancy. The parade that was supposed to walk through here was all but neglected, consisting of nothing other than disinterested performers and musicians, who were watching Zero's glorious takeover reign throughout the heavens. Colorful banters which flew throughout the area now blew forlornly, and flyers that once held purpose were now cast aside on the streets, trampled by the upcoming crowds and reporters, all of whom never minded whatever privacy the officials valued. In a way, the carnival seemed nothing more than a forgotten remnant, overtaken by dream which reality has favored.

Carefully, Naoko slowed to a stop, taking everything as they were. He set Kallen's bag down, and removed whatever remained from the terrorist attack from his attention. And he stood there, taking in the eerie quiet.

It was incredibly strange, how much time had passed, with each day differing just a tiny bit from the ordinary setup. Usually, whenever he walked through this place, there was always an audience just sitting on the pavement, or in the tables, or in the stores, as they watched the various attractions unfold, both predictable and unpredictable. Their gazes would be everywhere, trying to pick out what entertainment would happen next, while happily nestled in between strangers, who were just as excited as they.

He stood out in the middle of the streets, watching the ice now pummeling slowly building up off to the streets. He cocked his head, the tiny, immature sounds now banging against the hard surface, never once giving in to the now cold reflections unfolding before it. He looked up to the skies once again, that vicious army now absent, and along with them, the onlookers who were chasing some new, far off show.

He took a deep breath, and replayed the dreams within his mind, all the while denials rung through his brain so very oddly. They didn't attack the school, was what he remembered telling himself. They weren't after him. They wanted someone else. However unlikely it was, they probably just got their information mixed up, and were now apologizing to the university. And besides, what could they possibly want with someone like him, anyways?

It took him a while to notice the snow falling again. Naoko's eyes widened at the scene, the tiny sounds of frozen water now steadily reaching his ear. He could hear her songs, sweet, melodic lullabies now urging him to move, He lifted one arm, then took a tiny step forward. Then another. Then another.

Then he began dancing.

* * *

Just yesterday, she managed to get a promotion in the mall, from store cleric to manager, and because she was bilingual, she got a small bonus. Though the job was lucrative, it would also involve a bit of traveling, since she would have to go to Narita at times, to Kyushu, to perhaps even to the Fuji Mountains, as a translator between the Britannians and the Japanese. In fact, her first trip would happen this Saturday in Nagoya, to consult with her supervisors about business deals pertaining to sales and marketing. In a way, this was supposed to be a relaxing week off, just before her new career takes off.

Ms. Kozuki sat on the couch, like she normally would, the television off, with only silence penetrating through the pleasing loneliness. She had a tea cup in one hand, a grey, makeshift quilt in the other, a result of her husband's failed efforts. Though she wasn't shivering, her mind kept going back to the idea of buying a kotatsu; it was still winter, after all, and since she'll be away for a while, it'd be better for both Naoko and Kallen if she left them a little parting gift, at least until she comes back.

While she pondered on this thought, there was a tiny knock on the door. Very reluctantly, Ms. Kozuki stood up. She stretched, allowing her aching joints some relief, before walking toward the door and opening it.

She smiled at the landlady then. "Mrs. Sasaki!"

Mrs. Sasaki nodded, pulling her oversized, pink shawl over her shoulder and stepping through the door. A simple, white kimono donned her body, with a golden ribbon strapped elegantly around her waist. She was about Kallen's height, with long, black hair mixed with a bit of silver. Though she was old, only the slightest traces of wrinkles showed on her face, and with that same, youthful light flourishing from her eyes, a trend Ms. Kozuki found very encouraging. "Hello dearie," the elderly woman greeted roughly. "What? Are you just going to stand there? You expect me to freeze to death?"

Ms. Kozuki sighed then, took the landlady's hand, and led her inside, into the warm, comfortable haven. Her fragile, bony grip kept the mother there for some time, as she took off her sandals. "No, I suppose not. What are you dressed for anyways?"

"My daughter was throwing a little party to celebrate her pregnancy," Mrs. Sasaki answered stubbornly, while closing the door behind her.

Ms. Kozuki blinked. "She's in India, right?"

"Correct. Well, the flights are canceled though…monsoon season, you know?"

"R-right." Quietly, Ms. Kozuki went into the kitchen, and grabbed the tea kettle off the stove. She opened the lid, and though the aroma caught her off guard, she was about to pour out its contents when Mrs. Sasaki stopped her. "Don't prepare anything. I won't be here very long."

"It's fine. I don't mind."

"No, it's quite alright. Rather, I prefer you not do anything." she replied as she swept into the kitchen. Carefully, she removed the chair and sat down, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "Come. Sit down."

Cautiously, Ms. Kozuki obeyed, her muscles beginning to tense. "Is there…something wrong, Mrs. Sasaki?"

When the landlady hesitated, Ms. Kozuki began rummaging through her mind, endeavoring to predict what it was she'd neglected to do. Kallen said she gave the rent money to her yesterday, and they were all caught up on their bills. From what she could tell the daughter wasn't causing any unnecessary trouble, and residents, whatever their nationality was, admired Kallen for being a Black Knight. Was it the smell? No, couldn't be; Naoko had been cooking every night, so it was impossible for Kallen to come anywhere near the kitchen. Wait! Did she hear about Ms. Kozuki's new job?

Before Mrs. Sasaki could open her mouth, Ms. Kozuki interrupted immediately, "I'll be back soon!"

The outburst shocked the older woman, with her fingernails digging into the wooden table in response. It took some time for Mrs. Sasaki to recover, and when she did, she could only stare at the mother dumbly. "What?"

"I will!" Ms. Kozuki continued. "I know the job will require extensive traveling, but I will have next month's rent on time! You don't have to worry about-"

Mrs. Sasaki nodded approvingly. "O-oh. Well, congratulations…then. I wasn't particularly worried about you not paying rent, but thank you for the warning." She straightened herself, and regarded Ms. Kozuki evenly. "You're not…degrading yourself, are you? A young girl like yourself-"

"N-no! It's nothing like that," she stuttered sheepishly, setting herself down in front of Mrs. Sasaki. She felt the heat flush her face, and no sooner had she grasped on her mistake did the landlady begin laughing in relief.

"It…it was a promotion." she finished lamely.

"Good for you then," Mrs. Sasaki replied. "Now, getting back to the matter at hand. I've been getting…rather odd complaints about you from the other residents."

"Complaints?"

"Correct. Apparently, you have a young man living with you now. He's been going in and out of your home for the last few months. Is that right?"

Naoko? Ms. Kozuki immediately relaxed, and consented to the woman's. "Yes; he's been staying with us. But don't worry; he hasn't been causing any trouble. In fact he's a very big help. Why? Is something the matter?"

"May I ask who he is?" Mrs. Sasaki said in that same, formal, business-like manner.

"We don't know," she admitted. "When he first came to us, he couldn't remember who he was. From what my daughter tells me, he was found lying in an alley. We've taken him to the police station, but they haven't been able to identify him. I'm sorry for not explaining to you this before."

"Neither you nor your daughter have anything to worry about."

"Pardon?"

Mrs. Sasaki sighed. "Many tenants have been asking about him several times. Some have even accused you of housing a criminal of sorts."

Ms. Kozuki narrowed her eyes. "I assure you, Mrs. Sasaki. Naoko is well behaved, well-spoken, and very much an _upstanding_ citizen."

The landlady continued on with her report, as if no interruption had ever happened. "Not to mention he's been out wandering the streets alone. To be honest, people are quite frightened of him, since he bears a resounding resemblance to a certain tyrant-"

"If that tyrant is dead, then there shouldn't be a problem."

"- _along_ with the fact that the boy just showed up out of nowhere, it's grounds for suspicion," Mrs. Sasaki finished frustratedly. "Listen my dear; word has gotten out that I have a Demon Emperor _lookalike_ living here. Not only have I been hounded by my clients I've also had to deal with those nosy bloggers. Telling me I have some ghost living in my building. _Bah!_ A bunch of _bakas_ if you ask me! _Bakas!"_

"But I still don't understand, Mrs. Sasaki. Naoko hasn't been going out by himself, and the only time he does is with Kallen to school. And even if he was, how does this concern-?"

"Young lady, I've been in this business for far too long to give it up now." The elderly woman tossed a haughty glance behind her, before settling back into her chair. "And reputation is everything! I will not allow it to slip away from my grasp. If people start talking about a dictator living here, those idiots will be back again, and they will _slander_ my building and me along with it, as well as the other residents living here!"

Realization came crashing down on Ms. Kozuki. Her eyes widened, and she gripped her wrist tightly, in an effort to suppress the rising panic. "Wait. Mrs. Sasaki, that's not fair-!"

"Come now dearie. You yourself should know that fairness doesn't exist in this world."

"Mrs. Sasaki, he's just a child-"

"They've all seen him! Looks just like a common day criminal, they all say."

There it was again, that awfully narrow-minded persecution she strove so hard to avoid. Somehow, it's always come down to this, and though Ms. Kozuki tried to be above it, the emotions were so hard to dodge, the stinging pain of rejection afterwards. She knows the feeling all too well. "Mrs. Sasaki-"

"Don't try arguing," she stated sternly. "All the other tenants say the same thing. To put it simply, either that young man moves out, or they move out. And I'd rather have that clone move out than risk losing my business."

"Can you at least give us some time?" she pleaded. "I have to talk this over with my daughter as well. This affects her too!"

Even when Mrs. Sasaki consented, that burdensome wound never left Ms. Kozuki for the remainder of the day.


	27. Chapter 27

Soldiers scurried throughout the mansion, their panicked footsteps a testament to the upcoming fears of reporting the failure to the king. Their heels struck the tiled floors, black and white effortlessly capturing the cold sweat dripping from their palms. Voices reached upwards and bounced from the high, ribbed vault ceilings, the sounds resonating from what would normally have been quiet, lonely chambers in the midst of a performance, the silk curtains now drawn in blatant rejection of a reality that has stolen its audience. Dark chandeliers draped their finery from across the rooms, the sharp, Gothic designs horrific enough for everyone to remember just how painful the last execution was, while the paintings hung throughout the hallways proved to be just as fatally terrifying. Stained glass windows refracted the light that once gave the colors their glory, transforming whatever dream was left of the past into a chaotic present, neither willing nor able to give way to the soldiers' once peaceful mindset. The temptation of running away was simply to great to ignore, yet no one headed for the doors, simply because it've been more likely to hasten their death sentence.

But out of all this, Lisette remained as she was, attentive and alert. Her eyes observed the aggressive humiliation out of her squad, her faction squirming irritatingly and without rest, trying to come up with a suitable excuse to give to their patron. She amusingly watched as one by one, they conversed with their peers, endeavoring to come up with ways in which they could save their beloved Commander, all the while leaving their own hides unscathed. They spoke of which lamb that was to be offered next, never once leaving any doubt in their minds who they preferred dying. Usually, it was always the sick, or the elderly, or the weak, or the orphaned, or anyone else that would never see the battlefield.

She strolled away from her subordinates, her heels slamming onto the floors so easily, as she made her way to the drawing room.

As she walked through the corridors, her eyes kept shifting to the outside, the shadows from afar seemingly touching the edge of her Mistress's possessions. Dark, foreboding clouds surrounded the mansion, and off in the distance, she could make out those old, archaic oak trees in which she would spend her youth, the leaves cascading to the ground, withered and crumbling away from the dry, devastating winters. Their long, twisted path carried off to an old, empty village nearby, the abandonment now evident through the neglectful acts of a forgotten time. They were now merely uninhabited ruins, desolated in their humiliation, all the while becoming a breeding ground for thieves and vagabonds, none of whom would probably last long in this world, save for the few who were already unstable to begin with.

Lisette tore herself away from the scene, and focused her eyes on the hallways. Black vines swirled throughout the walls and onto the ceilings, the stones never once marring their elegant thorns and thistles. Tiny green leaves dotted the walls, leading up to the many grotesque paintings for which the soldier would rather not look at. Three white, unlit candles kept up their repetition, setting themselves on a small, ornate table while depressingly facing the windows, the bars upon the glass doing little to assuage the tense atmosphere. The gargoyles that once protected the hallways now lay in ruin, their heads chopped off, their wings lying forgotten in the stillness of the afternoon, where the glory only of insects would be able to find them. In her opinion, however, it was a very happy end.

She finally came to a large, arched door, the ostentatious handle staring back at her in cold glee. A dim, orange light vibrated from beneath the crack, along with a shadow that kept on moving here and there, not stopping for any intruder which happened upon it. Carefully, Lisette raised her fist and knocked on the door.

"Madam?" she called, to which only silence responded back.

She breathed a relieved sigh, then proceeded to enter into the isolated chambers.

Crimson curtains flew alongside the callous stone, the soft, descending fabric bypassing a tall, arched window which managed to turn away from those lonely, nostalgic ruins. Empty bookshelves grazed the wide walls, paints and pencils scattered all over. Sketches lay wasted on the floor, some with angry little scribbles lying on the edge, others masterful pieces in which his Majesty would've been so very delighted to see. Canvases stood humbly on their easels, their warm, earthen colors reflecting away that icy hearth she knew the Mistress would see every day. An emerald rug decorated the wooden floors, and along with the borders were tiny, lavender roses that peaked through those twisted vines.

Lisette stood at the entrance initially, then without delay, she shut the iron gate, and walked a bit closer toward the woman, who was now painting yet another timeless tale among the dark candlelight. Lady Morgan's dress was black, the hem drawing out from her waist and all the way toward the floors. See-through sleeves adorned her pale arms, with tiny flowery patterns etched throughout the cuffs, and her bare shoulders meticulously drew in whoever she would be enchanting. A black choker hugged her neck, with a tiny silver bell hanging down from the middle. Long, green hair inched closely toward the easel, as she held the palette in one hand, the brush in another.

Cautiously, she moved in a little further. She placed her hands behind her back, and assumed her place. "Madam," she started, "we've found Lord Mordred. He was residing in sector 8, and although we had some interference, we managed to verify his location. We will begin extracting him shortly." She took a deep breath. "His Majesty also wanted to thank you, for revealing your suspicions."

As the Mistress continued drawing, Lisette stole a glimpse at the paintings to which she indulged herself in. The scenes were probably of that world, as far as the soldier could tell; lively, erratic, filled with foreign temptations she could hardly even begin to describe with words alone. Ancient, mesmerizing, the paintings always depicted a place anywhere but here, and the well from which the lady drew her inspirations never seemed to run dry, taking away pieces of dreams and simply slapping them onto the canvas. It was something his Majesty found quite entertaining, and it was also probably one of the reasons why Lady Morgan was allowed to continue living.

There were no people in those drawings, however. She knew the woman could draw them; after all, she's spent decades painting his Majesty's portraits, and though it was a wasted effort, it seemed she was quite skillful enough to depict any fairy accurately, capturing every detail thoroughly with each stroke. She's gotten so many requests from those vain aristocrats that at times, Lisette feared she would've had to lock up the drawing room so that no one would come in and immaturely inserted themselves into the paintings. Perhaps she was simply just tired of drawing humans and fairies all day. Perhaps this was her way of rebelling, that in some way, she was calling out to that beautiful past. Perhaps this was her way of asking for change, however unlikely that was.

And yet, all the same, Lisette knew that wasn't the case.

She would see a person's outline over and over again on the sketches, all of which were usually thrown out by the maids, tossed aside by the officials, even torn apart by the Mistress's hands. She would mess up somewhere, whether it be a stray mark on the cheek, or the body being too flailed, or another subtle mistake Lisette would never catch. Today alone was just a testament of her frustrations.

She tore her eyes away from the paintings, and turned back to the Mistress. "Milady?"

"No."

Lisette avoided revealing her confusion, fixing the details on her face so that it'd be so. "Pardon?"

"It's too soon for extraction," she answered. "I'm sure his Majesty feels the same way."

"Milady, if we don't act now the Black Knights will get to him. Surely his Majesty will allow us to do that much. It doesn't make sense-"

"Lisette."

The girl froze for a moment, her hands clammy, her skin cold. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest, and for a while, she fell silent, embarrassment filling her face happily. Afterwards, however, she regained her composure, and began again. "Milady, please allow me to handle the operation."

"That authorization, I'm afraid, will be entrusted either to Cailleach or Camalus. Your only goal was to confirm my suspicions, then report them back. And besides, unlike you they've no prior attachment to him."

"Mistress, please-!"

"Although you succeeded in completing the task at hand, you lingered on the battlefield for far too long. You were almost caught by both Guinevere and Lancelot, not to mention the Black knights and Britannian Army. You allowed your emotions to get the best of you, and as a result you used more resources than necessary. Aside from that," she continued, pressing the brush delicately onto the canvas, "you drew a lot of attention to yourself with that little stunt you pulled in Tokyo University."

"It won't happen again Madam, but… but I would still like to witness the extraction."

And yet again, she stopped, frozen in place as the lady turned toward her, with those dull, amethyst eyes in which no light could escape. "Is that _clear_ , Lisette?" she asked quietly. "You are _not_ to approach him on your own. Even if those idiots grant you permission I forbid you to go under grounds of treason."

"Milady, the memories are hazy," Lisette pleaded. "I've no intention of betraying his Majesty. I only want to bring him back, just as everyone else does."

"I know you do," she answered instantly, her glare softening a bit. "I know, but this isn't the time or place for you to lose your head. Don't do anymore than needs to be done, and you'll save yourself from more trouble. Understand?"

Lisette balled her fists. "Yes."

* * *

Suzaku watched the officials come up to Nunnally, shaking her hand confidently as they attempted to make small talk. A few of the representatives gazed at her warily, and while there were others who were outright distrustful of Britannia, for the most part the UFN, the EU, and the Chinese Federation are willing to stand together with their comrade, in hopes of removing Alfheimr altogether, by force, if necessary. Japan, in the meantime, will act as the main Sakuradite supplier, while the Middle Eastern Federation and Australia will continue on with aiding humanitarian efforts, housing refugees and providing financial assistance toward the already war torn areas.

All the while he kept careful watch on the Chinese consulate. Aside from Kallen and a few others, no one else seemed to be there. He's already received conformation from Cornelia's soldiers that she had, indeed assisted them on the battlefield, and that she wasted no time in meeting Todoh's division and falling back behind their lines. Not only that, but he's already spoken to her about Alfheimr's surprise attack, a few months prior, something she's shown no hesitation about. She stayed in the Guren, as she was ordered to with, as always, no indication that she was lying. Her pulse never sped up, nor did she show any discomfort while talking with him.

But she just…seemed a little too innocent.

Nevertheless, there wasn't much of anything he could do to assuage his doubts. Zero wasn't able to move freely. It wasn't like before, where he could just show up unannounced without drawing attention to himself; no one wanted a deadman at their doorstep. Unless, of course, he was willing to let Euphie investigate on her own, but then again that move was just as risky, though there were less strings attached to it.

He frowned, and sought out her magic. Nunnally was safe, and since Vermillion hadn't been attacked, more than likely Euphie was going back to Horai Island. No, she was probably in Kanime Island, keeping watch over the ruins.

When the meeting was over, he sighed, and stood from his seat. It was clear Arthur was going to try and communicate with Nunnally from now on; Luzhin's execution already confirmed his motive. He didn't think the fairy needed Nunnally's power, though with her cooperation it made it harder for both he and Euphie to move. As of this point, however, more than likely that idea was screwed over, so he might try and pull something else. Probably not another hostage situation…an all out assault, maybe?

But as far as things stand, Arthur wouldn't dare try pulling anything on Euphie. As soon as he enters this world, he'll be fighting in her territory, so for right now she has the advantage. He wouldn't dare go as far as to try and expose Zero either, since the Courts have already lost their credibility, both by supporting a terrorist organization and for seemingly rebelling against the new regime. With international bonds already solidified, it seems that Alfheimr has no foreign country to turn to but the ones within their world, a still very frustrating factor in all of this. If he's gone as far as to alienate potential allies from this world, has he already gotten his armies assembled? Is he just biding his time, waiting for the right moment to attack?

He felt a simple nudge, and he looked down. He saw Nunnally's tiny hand resting against his wrist. "Zero?"

He blinked, resurfacing from his thoughts. "Your Majesty," he said surprisingly. Then, relaying his script mentally, he eased himself into a slow, careful smile. "I thank you for your cooperation."

"Actually, I was hoping I could talk with you about a personal matter," Nunnally replied, shifting her gaze to the now carefree officials, who were going over the treaties. "Concerning Ms. Kallen Kozuki."

Kallen? Suzaku remained where he was, revealing nothing at all, much, as he could see, to Nunnally's frustration. "Kallen is studying International Relations currently," she explained, "and she was one of the hostages at Tokyo University. I was hoping we could allow her to sit in on these conferences. With her consent, of course."

He raised an eye. "If it's for educational purposes, I've no problem with that. Besides, I think it'd be a good opportunity for her to see what a political war zone is like. You could die without so much as taking a bullet to eye."

She chuckled nervously. "Yes. How very true."

"But if it's something like that, then why would-?"

"I would also like for her to become my personal bodyguard."

Suzaku stared down at Nunnally intently, piecing apart her small, vulnerable smile. That was impossible; there was no way she could've suspected Kallen. Though she's dealt with Alfheimr before, she didn't have any viable source of information on what was going on now. She was kept in the dark, blinded just as badly as the others.

But knowing her…

Suzaku shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that's out of the question. Kozuki has other matters she needs to attend to, and though I'm sure she enjoys spending time with you, you both have things you need to do."

"O-oh." Nunnally laughed anxiously. "I see. I'm sorry for imposing on you such a trivial situation. Still, if it's no trouble, I would like to visit her sometime."

"Nunna," he whispered softly. He took one step forward and leaned down, taking a break from his facade. "Although she's in the Black Knights, you don't need to ask for my permission. You can see her any time you want. It's nice to have company every now and then."

"R-right. Ella is a bit stiff. I just need a change of pace."

Suzaku straightened then. "As long as the reporters don't follow you, then it's alright. However, if it's a military operation, you're not to go anywhere near her. It's dangerous, and I'm sure she wouldn't want you to get caught up in it."

"Of course."

Suzaku narrowed his eyes. "Is everything alright? Are you still worried about that terrorist?"

"I am, actually," Nunnally stated then, a new light taking over her eyes. Her behavior changed immediately, as she involuntarily threw away that shy, timid girl he knew from long ago. She stared up at him with a determined gaze, something that surprised him. She stopped then, and resigned herself. "But that's a moot point now. Everyone's concerned. They're all involved in some way."

"I see."

"Still, I don't see why they need me. I am supposed to be the enemy, after all," she continued on, watching Suzaku's expression through the mask, all the while maintaining her amiable disposition, warding off whatever suspicion was surfacing from the ignorant crowd. "If they're as violent as everyone here is making them out to be, then they wouldn't have tried to cooperate with me. Do you suppose that simply because I'm young, they're underestimating me?"

Suzaku's lips parted. He stared at her, as she placed her arms to her side. "I am the Demon Emperor's sister, as well as the Empress of Britannia. I will not allow terrorists to do as they please here, nor will I let any innocent civilian suffer at their hands."

"Nor will I," he challenged.

"And I'm very glad to hear that," Nunnally stated silently. "It seems we're in agreement then? Zero?"

"Yes," he answered, ignoring the alarm rising from inside his chest.


	28. Chapter 28

Nunnally grimaced at the evening skies ahead, light beige strands carelessly pushed aside as her brain marked the end of another, unsatisfying day. Her eyes kept shifting here and there, her mind wandering from one subject to the next without any emotion of her surroundings, as she stood in the galleries, hands behind her back. She sent a shattering, lonely glare off to those nostalgic, melancholic skies, before turning back once again, examining her older brother's handsome face.

She remembered this portrait. The artist kept scolding her for not being able to stay still, so her mother had to hold her hands to keep the girl from moving. Lelouch, in the meantime, would promise to play with her after the long day was over, and would always dangle thoughts of seeing Euphie, or Clovis, or whoever left their mother managed not to alienate. Even then his sophistication was seared into her mind like an unwanted scar, reminding her of how much work she had to do just to keep up with him, to not be a burden even though she was. Though she would smile every time she would look at this painting, the memories casually bringing themselves back within the depths of her heart, she couldn't help but frown this time, her stare lingering on her brother more often than her wonderful, compassionate mother.

He was always so mysterious, even though the words he would say were so predictable. If she did something wrong, he would scold her; if she complained, he'd praise her and do everything in his power to remove the obstruction. If she was happy, he was happy, and if she was sad, he would worry. If mad then enraged, if quiet then withdrawn, if adventurous then concerning…that repetition was so obvious it used to dance on her fingertips conspicuously, counting down the times when her older brother was too protective, or too focused, or too unsociable. There were moments when he was more prideful or reckless than Nunnally, and more often than not he would demonstrate a crueler side to him when one of the royals was bullying her; it was that side of him, actually, that frightened Nunnally. She would've done whatever it took to suppress that graceless, sinful nightmare, even if she had to remain blind and crippled for the rest of her life.

But perhaps even that was for nought. In the end, he still became Zero, then the enemy of the world, before being removed altogether by society's ignorance. He managed to nurse those feelings, encouraging himself to toss his own humanity away, while giving rise to a disillusioned pedestal, in which not only he, but also Nunnally, would obtain their freedoms, however unwilling she was. The destruction he's caused, the lives he's taken, countless people he's sacrificed just to seize Britannia's throne; well, it wasn't like she was exempted from those sins either.

And at the moment, she had to wonder if she would face the same judgement her brother would, though their intentions pure and hearts unsullied. She pondered on that innocence, and found herself, time and time again, asking herself whether she was trapped by those ideals, as her brother and father had been. She was more self-reliant, more confident, to the point where, at times, she would even assist Ella in giving military and political advise, relaying her brother's strategies on the chessboard as she would on the battlefield in the event Alfheimr came back. Yet, simultaneously, the development appeared nothing more than slip into the past; with each step she took, she felt herself falling to that naive mindset again, of when she was so very dependent on everyone and she couldn't do a single thing for herself. Lelouch's words still haunted her, and in that false characterization, that description, that was when the statements made up her own, realistic fears.

Willingly innocent, and painfully ignorant.

Yes, those phrases suited her well.

She lifted her left hand and stroked the canvas softly, her eyes falling away from her brother's face. The boy from the hostage kept reappearing in her mind, so much so she's had a hard time focusing on anything else. That overwhelming joy was always nearby, along with that heartbreaking reality that ultimately, it wasn't him. It couldn't have been him. No matter how many times she wished it, the very aspect of him being alive was just too great a desire. Even if world peace somehow managed to reign this life, and she could pick out anything she wanted, her brother would perhaps be a bit too much for her to afford.

But that prickly, irritating feeling remained. She couldn't cast him away from her brain, and her suspicions kept arousing every time the representatives would mention the hostage situation. Suzaku's behavior was also something to consider, since he was so easily caught off guard by Nunnally's perception. He was lying, but she just couldn't prove it. He was hiding something from her, from everyone else, yet she couldn't bring herself to make him reveal it; after all, she knew what it was like to be humiliated, and she couldn't bring the same punishment on him, even if his secrets were vital.

Being a criminal on the run was simply just a silly excuse to try and get him back to whoever was after him. And that terrorist only showed that boy to she and Suzaku, right before he was executed. She remembered that phone call, and that man's desperate attempts to get her to cooperate. She remembered the attack at Vermillion, and how both Suzaku and Kallen managed to disappear from her sight, before reappearing again. She remembered Babel Tower, the construction sight for which the anniversary of her brother's death would be celebrated fully.

She stopped then, and narrowed her eyes. No, they didn't want her cooperation. They needed her to identify that boy. Lady Vivien stayed in the Pendragon long enough, and there was no doubt in Nunnally's mind that the woman might've brought a few companions with her, people that managed to take a good look at her brother before fleeing the burning Palace. She hadn't even seen them since that attack, and it was only now that the boy got out did the terrorists start making a move.

She bit her lip, and turned away from the painting, walking away from the window which was now becoming a thorn to her side. Tokyo University. That was where she last saw him. Was he a student there? Did Kallen know him? Was he attracting attention to himself, for simply looking like her brother?

"Nunnally."

Hastily, she turned, and found Ella standing there, in her usual, military attire. The Empress's eyes widened, and for a while, she couldn't find those long, sought after words she needed. Meanwhile, the older woman proceeded with her report, though the worry dotted across her aging face.

"Ah…we've…managed to draw them back Nunna," she explained. "I've got the rear faction watching over the Kyushu block and Saitama. Schniezel has secured Lady Kaguya and Prime Minister Oghi's cooperation as well, which will allow Britannian military to watch overseas trade and Sakuradite mining progress in Narita and the Fuji Mountains. We're also in a good position to assist Australia."

"R-right." the girl managed.

Cornelia blinked. "Are you alright? You're a bit pale."

"It's nothing. You…you just surprised me…"

"I see. And one more thing," she continued. "Schniezel has asked for an audience with you. Tomorrow afternoon, in your office. I believe he wanted to relay Zero's information to you, about Alfheimr."

"I…I see. Sister?"

"Yes?"

She stared at the Ella for a bit. Then, without further delay, she said, "I need you to station a few of your troops in Tokyo. There's something I need to confirm."

* * *

Naoko sat at Kallen's desk, seemingly mesmerized by her shrine of photos, his eyes recounting the happy smiles they had on their faces, the wonderful, naive expressions they possessed back when they were still young. From those brief windows of the past, he would have never guessed the sins the world had been plagued with; he'd never know the crimson that'd been spilt, the pain which the few had caused so many kinds of people. Death, war, terrorism; it seems that from Kallen's standpoint, it was almost as if the world had never been touched by any of that ugliness.

Though she was in the Black Knights, perhaps she really was living in an ideal world. In fact, from what Ms. Kozuki told him, she had her mother, her friends, an entire organization that supported her from the inside out. Even when she was with the former Zero, it looked like she always had someone. Hand under his chin, with Kallen's bag lying forgotten near the foot of her bed, he sat there, taking in whatever he could, all the while tuning out the screaming happening outside.

It was days like these he wished Kallen would just stay with the Black Knights.

It was never like this before. He knew that they shared a loving relationship, an unbreakable bond in which they could grow together, as a family and individually. It was a kind of relation Naoko grew to envy, but all the same, he admired that strength thoroughly; and in those seemingly pointless feelings, he grew to care for them. There was something familiar about that fondness, a term that he knew he couldn't just throw around. The term was quite confusing, and there were times when he completely forgot about remembering anything at all, when all he would do was just sit there and call himself "Naoko" and hope he never gets identified, out of fear for what his old life was. So many instances swirled around his mind in which he prayed for the past to stay buried, where he could stay in a tiny home like this. Small, fragile, broken, but warm all the same.

Unfortunately, that was something he couldn't even begin to recognize, and not just for himself, but for Ms. Kozuki and Kallen as well. "Lelouch" was all he ever started hearing about recently. There were times when Kallen would hover between overly protective to sweet and tender, to the point where Naoko had no idea how to tell the difference between the two personalities. All the same, Ms. Kozuki would give him that strange look whenever he came around. Sometimes, it'd be a brief mention of the Demon Emperor's name, while other times, she'd relay to him a full story about how he and Kallen met, of the past her daughter shared with him. She would tell him secrets Kallen trusted her with, the tales about her once cherished beloved falling to the grasp of a blissful, unknowing place, in which happy ends were the norm, and anything that should deviate from it would be shunned. "Lelouch" was an apparent anomaly that needed to be dealt with, and it made the story all the more tragic.

And yet even more so still, that tragedy managed to find Naoko.

Two nights ago, Ms. Kozuki told him he would have to leave. When he asked why, she simply shook her head, and told him about the landlady, who was having issues with him staying there. Though she'd yet to begin threatening Ms. Kozuki, the mother also knew that they didn't have much time. It was a miracle she could convince the old crone to wait until Kallen came back, then to discuss it with her then.

From what Naoko could understand, Mrs. Sasaki would do anything for reputation; though she was kind and friendly at times, nothing could triumph over her scorned honor. Even if the rumors were just lies, and typically they were, Mrs. Sasaki would rather die than let any harm come to her business. It wasn't like he could just hide in the apartment either; Kallen chased away some of the kids who were peeking through the windows, and even in the morning he caught a few odd glares directed toward him. Though he was used to them by now, every day those glares seemed to be getting more and more intense.

The gibberish suddenly intensified, and Naoko jolted out of his seat. He turned toward the door, his eyes wide, as the voices died down again, now to an inaudible whisper with that same anger shaking through their tones.

He had no idea how long they've been fighting like that. Ms. Kozuki, on one hand, wanted the boy to go with her during her business trips, as to avoid anymore trouble from the neighbors. At the very least, he wouldn't have to live with another stranger, and he could stay with them until his memories came back. Personally, Naoko preferred that option, although he never got a say in any of it. Kallen, meanwhile, wanted to send Naoko away, to a friend of hers residing somewhere near Lake Kawaguchi. And if that didn't work, there was always her other friend, who was studying fashion England, or the other one, who was traveling the world and had the entire media eating out of the palm of her hands (that friend scared him a bit), or even Gino, her hopeless, delusional suitor.

Naoko's eyes settled on Lelouch's face, a face so similar to his own. It was a face that'd caused him so much trouble, ever since he woke from that slumber. It seems whenever he saw that face, something familiar would come back to him, a time that he should not have forgotten, no matter what memory happened to disappear from his brain the very next moment. There was a disturbing prodding he couldn't get out from his system.

He squinted his eyes, gazing back at him a pair of violet orbs, colors that carried around in them secrets, entanglements Naoko knew not to get involved with, a facade in which that man couldn't get out of, no matter how hard he tried. His smile was tense, uneasy, as if at any moment, the world will come crashing down on him. There was an unnatural light in his eyes, and even from that amicable disposition, Naoko could tell something was off about him. Pride cruelly gleamed from his frame, but at the same time, there was another component brewing from the photograph, an emotion that made him so detached from the world, yet a desire to overcome it at the same time.

What was it?

What was it that made Naoko empathize with Lelouch vi Britannia?

He heard a slight creek from the door, and he tore his eyes away from the photos. There was a quiet sob from the background, but Naoko never got to see, since the girl shut the door so quickly. Kallen's blue, clear eyes were clouded, though tears never once appeared from the edge of her lashes. When she sighed in relief, his heart immediately sank. Strangers it was, then.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that. But don't worry; I got mom to agree."

He cocked his head, a slight frown playing on his lips. _Why'd you do that?_

"It's fine," she reassured, as she plopped herself on the bed. "We were just working out some attachment issues, that's all."

 _Issues?_

"Y-yeah." Kallen rubbed her neck wearily, looking away from him as the awkwardness continued building. Her shoulders relaxed, as she hugged her knees and stared at him with serious eyes. "Who was that woman you were with?" she asked. "What'd she want from you?"

His pupils automatically strayed toward one corner of the room. Kallen bit her lip. "So you knew her?"

 _I think so. No one's ever told me otherwise._

"Were you two close?"

 _Yes._

Kallen clenched her fists. "Do you have any idea why she'd be in Alfheimr then? Wait, before, when you stood up, those soldiers called you a fool, didn't they? And that woman treated you like you were someone important, right?"

 _Yes._

"Any chance you remember…anything?"

Naoko paused for a moment. Yes, back at the university there was that instance when he could recall…something. Something important, but for some reason, he refused to see any of it. He didn't particularly regret that decision, that much he was certain. _No._

"Alright," she said then, running her fingers through her hair. "From the looks on their faces, you must be pretty important. Funny, if I actually fished a prince out of that gutter of a cage." She then tentatively looked up, tightening her grip around her knees. "You…you really don't remember being in it?"

 _No._

"That's…that's crazy," she muttered.

He leaned forward. _Crazy how?_

"When you first came…you just…I mean…you just had that look on you," Kallen murmured quietly. "You looked like you came from some other world, and you're saying you don't remember _any of it?"_

 _Is that so hard to believe?_

"It is…"

Her voice faltered, as she closed her eyes, and sat there silently, the precious moments wasting away from her touch. She took a deep breath, and turned away from Naoko then. She fished out her cellphone from her bag, and started scrolling through the contacts. "Doesn't matter anyways," she whispered quietly. "As long as you're here, they'll come back. You need to get out of here while you're still in one piece."

 _Who're you calling?_ he asked much too innocently.

She grinned. "My friend."


	29. Chapter 29

Lachrymose adorned her lovely, receding face, as the ebonic shadows continued dwelling upon her tenebrous soul. Claws kept tearing that horrendous, nightmarish spirit away from her, the brief glimpse of a simple, unsophisticated dream covering her eyes while her demons continued dwelling within her already weak mind. She could see Arthur from her helplessness, laughing, taunting, mocking her pain with all his might, the verisimilitude of his mercilessness taking greater and greater precedence from within her mind. Her howls went unheard, her cries fell on deaf ears, as she continued her agonizing despairs, her heart drowning her from within, dragging her to the deepest pits of her own, psychological hell.

She saw C.C, giggling within the skeletal arms of Death, her own beating heart freezing over, giving itself into whatever judgement lay ahead of it, crushing the organ with its own, liberal cruelty. She heard Suzaku, whispering promises of decadence and vanity, fulfilling whatever avarice the dreadful insanity left to her. She felt Lelouch's long, elegant fingers, wrapping around her soft, vulnerable throat, forcing whatever breath was still residing within her body.

Euphemia screamed.

Cold sweat beads covered her forehead, her frightful, lavender eyes seemingly constraining themselves, suffocating her pupils until finally, they gave into that ephemeral lie. Her nails gripped the white sheets tightly, as she steadied herself, trying to ease to a slow halt. The adrenaline kept pounding against her veins however, and her heart just won't stop. Her hair was splayed against the mattress, cascading onto the floors, as she kept telling herself desperately that it was all just a dream, that there was nothing to be afraid of, no matter how much she wanted to be.

"Euphie?"

Her eyes widened. She gasped, and shot up, her hands buried underneath the covers. She closed her eyes, and immediately her muscles relaxed. "Suzaku," she groaned quietly, "don't scare me like that."

"Bad dream?" he asked, walking over toward her softly.

"Hardly." she answered, rubbing her tired eyes carefully. She sighed, putting her arms to her side as she leaned against the wall. "Was I that loud?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, as he set himself down on the side of her bed, the soles of his shoes bringing the man down to a humble, weary stop. The folds of his Zero costume were still hidden within the unsteady darkness, and though his verdant orbs peered against the wicked moonlight, Euphemia brushed it aside. "What was it about?"

"Nothing important," she answered. "So?"

He paused, as if hoping to continue the exchange, though inevitably, he returned to his weary state and looked ahead, shadowy pupils boring the night with little sympathy. "There was nothing out of the ordinary," he said. "Kallen has a solid alibi. Either that or she's just really good at lying."

"It's not like you to just suddenly accuse your subordinates like that."

"There's something wrong here. He was in the classroom with Kallen, and from the looks of things it seemed they knew each other." He slid his gaze toward Euphemia. "Euphie-"

"I know," she whispered callously, her mind retracing to the memories which replaced the battlefield. "I know."

He regarded her evenly, his eyes boring into hers, as that solemn expression danced from beneath his jaw. He pursed his lips. "Is it that dangerous?"

"It is. A defective protective charm can result in memory loss if not properly maintained. However, that alone isn't enough to make a person forget about everything, and unless it was traumatic, I highly doubt our Mordred will remain as he is for very long."

Suzaku narrowed his eyes. "He'll recover?"

"Perhaps. But for the time being, I've absolutely no clue what to make of him."

He held his breath. "You've never suffered anything like that?"

"No," she answered simply.

He nodded, then turned away from her, their shadows growing with each passing second the moon passes overhead. Eerie clouds covered the ghoulish rays with their veil, as they drifted across the bright stars which took the form of whatever constellations the world happened to shape in its mind. The cold air pressed its sad, lonely cries across the glass, slipping through the cracks from the balcony door and wrapping itself around the confines of the room. The Japanese flag hung next to her window, its drapery casting a forlorn silhouette, all the while beating silently against the breeze. From along the shoreline, she could even make out the lights from which the Chinese Federation shown, that virtuous corruption lying beneath the busy ports. She couldn't help but look at it for a little, when she felt Suzaku shift his weight on the bed.

"What is it?"

"What is magic anyways?" he asked softly. She couldn't help but laugh a bit, albeit confused at the quiet desperation ringing from his voice. "You're asking me this now?"

"I am." His gaze twisted toward hers. "Before, you told me that when a fairy…has their heart broken, they become monsters…right?"

"Yes."

"How does that happen? It's not enough for the emotion-"

"You're right. It's not."

He straightened. "Then what? What else is there?"

Euphemia closed her eyes, then reopened them again, an amused, sorrowful glint touching the edges of her expression. "I remember C.C telling me that Geass manifests itself in a certain way, but all the same, it's used to attain a wish, a desire, a reason for living, if you will. Fame, money, power, a loved one, whatever drives that person, the Geass simply becomes a tool in which that person could attain that dream. However, in the end, it's just a branch of magic. It utilizes lusts and desires, and manifests those illusions into longings. Rarely does anyone get anything out of it."

She smirked, dismissing the subtle emptiness grazing his features. "And as you may know, people have called the Geass 'The Power of the King', though it's incredibly weak, just because of the emotion tied with it. Isolation, solitude, anger, happiness; everything it ever utilized might as well have been a stray cut beneath the human heart.

"Think of it this way," she continued, placing her hand on her lap. "When people use a small dose of refrain, it doesn't do much. It might actually be beneficial to the body, if you take it in moderation. However, as time goes on, you start craving for more and more, until finally, it becomes a complete addiction. It over floods your veins and stimulates your nervous system, to the point you're walking on a very thin line; if you aren't careful, the obsession will kill you. It's something like that."

"Obsession?"

"Obsession, lust, love, friendship, anything at all. Any attachments you might have will do really." Euphemia's eyes strayed to the glass once again, a reminder of the hardly softening brutality of need not reminisce long on such a cold, painful concept; her memories have relayed enough of that. Trapping Arthur in that hellish asylum, abandoning Suzaku in that crumbling, decaying garden, while leaving Lelouch and C.C along the hearth of the darkened flames, was enough to satisfy her own foolish pursuits; the consequences alone broke her enchantment, the nightmares circling around her leaving their facades behind.

"So what about C.C then?" Suzaku pressed. "And Lelouch? And me and you? We're all bound by those same rules, aren't we?"

"Those two are a bit of an enigma," she answered. "Although C.C carried a weaker branch of the magic inside her, she was still able to give Lelouch such a powerful protective charm. As for…as for my brother, I've no idea what Arthur did to him. But before the upheaval, yes; he did carry a bit of the magic with him. He was a Geass user, after all."

"…Does that apply to everyone?"

"I believe so. I've yet to see anything that deviates from that theory, anyways."

"Arthur was obsessed with you then, wasn't he?"

"He was," she acknowledged, the hate still evident in her voice, "and he's after Lelouch now."

Suzaku grunted menacingly, biting the inside of his cheek as he pondered on those meaningless thoughts. And Euphemia couldn't help but wonder if it really was Lelouch's safety he was concerned with, or if curiosity had manifested in his own brain. "Why is he so fixated on Lelouch, anyways?"

It was a question she found difficult to answer. Though she combed through her memories, trying to piece together a response that would satisfy his curiosity, the countless memories surrounding her with every painful moment of the encounter, her lips remained silent. The thoughts poured through her, bringing in those bright, cloudy afternoons, where she would sit upon the throne with her brother beside her. She would stare out at the windows, gazing down below on the marketplaces, catching glimpses of Lisette running about, tugging at every stranger she saw, if only for a scrap of bread to feed her already full stomach. The aristocrats would always complain to her about how bad things were, however contradictory it all was in the end. Even in the background, she still heard a few stray chuckles seemingly coating the air lovingly, demolishing whatever prejudice was left within the atmosphere ever so conspicuously.

"Innocence," she finally answered.

The man paused for a moment, the shock coming down ever so quickly, and without delay. He furrowed his brows, the confusion taking precedence in his mind. "No one's innocent."

"There are many types of innocence, Suzaku." she explained quietly, remembering so well the naive smile on his face, just as he left her presence, the freedom in which his own dances had come to whisper ever so sweetly to her ears. "To come to and from a world where no one wanted you alive, and still remain unscathed. That, in itself, is innocence."

* * *

Ms. Kozuki watched sadly as Naoko came out from the closet, one of their old suitcases in hand. He was wearing Naoto's old, oversized black sweater, as well as a pair of grey, faded jeans she managed to buy from a rundown retail store. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his blue jacket tightly hugged his body, the hood over his head. Though he was taller than her son, he was a lot skinnier, more fragile, in a sense. His golden eyes peeked out from underneath the fabric like an intimidated, frightened child after being scolded for the very first time.

Behind her, Kallen waited outside the door impatiently, looking over her shoulder, while gesturing him to come along. Ms. Kozuki bit her lip and took a step forward, making sure the jacket was over the boy properly. "Take care of yourself," she whispered softly.

He nodded. _You too. Thank you…for letting me stay._

She choked back a tiny sob, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her. The mother held back her tears, as she felt his own arms come to her tiny waist. He was less emaciated than before. He was also a lot stronger, so that was a good thing. He's become more confident, though his kind heart never faded, and he was just as expressive as before. From just a simple look she could converse with him steadily, his pretend voice echoing from the depths of her mind.

Yes, she did wish she could do more for him; buy him a few more clothes, give him some more money in case there was an emergency. Her salary, however, couldn't provide him with those luxuries, and though he seemed comfortable now, Ms. Kozuki couldn't help but imagine the situations in which he would need support, both financially and emotionally. Though she only knew him for a few months, already he felt like family, from getting into childish fights with Kallen, to cooking their meals and cleaning up the house, to even, on occasion, scolding the two for fighting and falling silent afterwards.

In a way, he was exactly like Naoto was.

Ms. Kozuki took a deep breath, before letting him slip away. Naoko gave her a small, reassuring smile. _I'll be fine,_ he seemed to say. _I don't want to cause anymore trouble for you._

"I'd rather you worry about yourself," she replied. "You're free to come back any time you wish. It's your home too."

His lips parted slightly, as he stared at her with unreadable eyes. It was as if the phrase was so unheard of, so confusing, that at that moment, Ms. Kozuki wondered if it was the right thing to say. However, just as quickly as the words echoed between the two, they vanished, replaced by a contemplative expression in his eyes. And he smiled.

 _I will._

"Naoko," Kallen ordered silently. He turned away, picked up his suitcase, and proceeded to walk out the front door and into the frigid night, lingering only a few steps away from the quiet apartment.

Ms. Kozuki stood by the doorframe, and the two stared at each other for quite some time. Finally, Kallen closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

The apology shocked the mother for a little, before she dismissed it altogether and cupped her daughter's cheeks. That's right. She was going out tonight, wasn't she? With a friend from college.

"I was being selfish," she whispered back. "He has someone waiting for him, doesn't he?"

And suddenly, Kallen seemed weary, tired, restless. "I don't know," she answered, prying herself away from the boy. "But it's too dangerous for him to stay here. Even when this all blows over, I don't know if it's safe for him to come back."

"Really, Kallen. Please, I need you to keep an eye on Naoko for me."

"Mom, you really love them. Don't you?"

"Naoko and Naoto are two different people," she instantly said, before calming herself, settling her fears with a simple farewell. "But I love them both. Come back when you're done, alright?"

She smiled brightly. "Yes."

And with that, Ms. Kozuki closed the door, feeling as though another son was lost in life's twisted tendrils.

* * *

Arthur stood at in front of the mirrors, all of which surrounded the atrium, gazing silently at his reflection as he counted the seconds past, his mouth moving to the rhythm of a quiet, steady flow by which time dances. Reflections kept looking back at him, the bright, iridescent rays of of light peeking through the clouds easily, reminding him of the once proud, justifiable, corrupted Seelie Courts. Kaleidoscopes of glass streamed their resplendent light toward him, spiraling away at the hated world's cruel, cutting gaze, all of which taking precedence upon his body so readily. The pavements surrounding the arches were covered with withered irises and leaves, many of which fell into the surrounding fountains nearby, forming a little circle which guarded him from whatever winds happened nearby. Tall oak trees surrounded the gardens, their branches reaching out to the small tiny leaves which grazed the forests heavily.

Brief caresses of the outside air brushed across his skin, and immediately, Arthur laughed. For some reason, Mordred didn't want to dance here, even though the scenery was so beautiful. He was even willing to let him out of his cage, if only to perform his duties as a fool. To this day, he still had no idea why the boy was so reluctant.

"Your Majesty," a quiet voice called from the night.

His eyes flickered toward his left, and found a small, insignificant girl standing there, hands behind her back, the maid, probably. Her eyes were kept carefully down, and a pathetic expression of subordination was plastered along her ugly face. There was no lively displeasure hidden beneath that plain, self-hating personality of hers, no spirit in which he was tempted to break. The only viable reaction he was going to get out of her was that of obedience, though should he sentence her to death, the scene would become more enjoyable. Still, he didn't want to see her groveling on the ground; it made her predicament all the more pitiful, and Arthur was in no mood to hear her pleas.

Annoyed, he turned away; he was growing rather tired of those eyes as of late. Yet that small gesture encouraged the servant to continue on. "Sir, Mistress Morgan is here. She…ah, she has your paintings ready."

"Send her in."

"R-right." The maid scurried off, leaving behind a very bad imprint, a very prickly feeling Arthur could do without.

Morgan, huh? Unlike Mordred, she was neither desirable nor significant in his eyes. An unwanted puppet in the midst of the fray.

But watching her squirm was possibly the most enjoyable thing he could possibly ask for.


	30. Chapter 30

Tonight was the big night.

Rivalz swirled around the restaurant, quickly taking the orders of his customers while making sure a certain couple sitting in the back corner remained undisturbed. Though there was a line just outside the doors, the whines, requests, and overall squealing clawing his ears so very exhaustively, he couldn't help but smile, happily taking on whatever unreasonable demands that which piled on him recklessly. He kept his eyes carefully trained on the lines outside, weaving his way through the busy waiters and waitresses, the chefs and their assistants, all of whom were wondering why their normally frantic boss was so ecstatic. He simply grinned, and continued on with his pace.

There was, however, one unwelcome problem.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught the food critic sitting there aimlessly, twirling his fork between his fingers, while surveying the bustling staff carefully. His observations only lasted a minute, yet he would frequently scribble down comments on that dreadful, yellow notepad of his, with a tiny frown adorning his lips. Rivalz only had to steal a quick glance downwards to know the damage the blasphemy carried; from the hazardous, candle lit tables, to the ghoulish shadows lurking from the corner, to even the very few, dirty conversations taking place on the other side of the restaurant, the man left nothing out, though most of it wasn't even the restaurant's problem to begin with. The manager never bothered making out what he looked like, knowing full well the critic was never going to come here again.

However, though none of the biting insults bothered Rivalz, for some reason he kept eyeing the customers suspiciously, asking for their opinion as to why such "lovely people were eating at this dump." Of course, no one believed him, but in spite of the reasons, Rivalz informed his workers about the man, and told them to just leave him be, serving him whenever it was necessary, scolding him when appropriate. When they agreed, Rivalz smirked pridefully and continued on with his job, his mind hovering elsewhere, his interests no longer attending the very prospect of Gino getting a girlfriend.

Just yesterday, Kallen called, asking him if he could let a friend of hers stay at his place for a little while, at least until things calmed down, what with the terrorist attacks and all that. Allegedly, the friend's throat was removed, so he couldn't talk, and he was a bit stupid at times, so the chaos of living near the danger made it hard for her to watch him. What's more, he bore an unappealing resemblance to a certain tyrant (Charles probably), and she didn't want him to suffer anymore than he already had.

Although the problem did seem a bit suspicious, Rivalz agreed to it. Kallen wasn't the kind of person to hide a criminal, after all. Plus, she's a good friend, and he'd help her in whatever way he could. The only thing he asked was that she not make this a priority over her date with Gino, since the guy looked forward to since forever ago.

She never…actually answered him after that.

Rivalz slapped open the doors, shoving on his apron and helping his chefs with the latest orders. "Come on everyone!" he shouted. "We've got a very cranky critic out there! Did I mention he was single?"

A few of his employees laughed off the joke, though Rivalz managed to take note of one, slight blush from his assistants. He chuckled softly, before resuming his work, strapping the latex gloves on his hands, the butcher knife swinging expertly in his hands. The meat slopped messily onto his cutting board, and when he touched it, his fingers burned from the incredibly hot sensation. He hissed painfully, before cutting it up and throwing it onto a plate.

The barbecue sauce melted from the surface, the brown glaze sinking into the delicate morsel as Rivalz sprinkled a bit of basil and mint on the side. He handed the plate off to the waitress and started again, only to be pulled away from his station and handed a tray of large, frosted pastries into his arms. One of the workers stared up at him, and gestured outside. "Out of all of us, you're probably the cleanest," she muttered.

"Is he still waiting?"

"Yeah…"

"Huh? What's with that look?"

"He's drunk."

"What?"

"Just get out there!" she snapped, shoving him through the doors and into the vibrant, lively air.

He laughed silently at her moody attitude, relaying the message to himself before striking out into the restaurant, stealing a quick look at the receipts she managed to stash into his hand. He carefully avoided hitting the customers, his tray swerving to and from the sides. He dropped his professionalism, turning to flirt with prospective girlfriends every now and then, before swinging back up and making his way to the ill-mannered critic.

Who was crying.

As Rivalz drew closer, he caught sight of a figure sitting across from him, frantically looking around, endeavoring to see if there was anything they could do to stop the curious eyes and peculiar stares. He blinked, as he turned and watched the surrounding customers staring at the well known basher, leaning over while whispering words of advise to his unwitting guest. A few of the waiters had to come a few times to stop the incessant sobs, only to freeze when they arrived at the table.

The manager narrowed his eyes. He nudged a nearby waitress and set the tray in her arms, before making his way over. The receptionist said he came alone, and from the way he writes his reviews it seemed he wasn't the friendliest of guys. Still, the stranger did look a bit out of place; his dark blue hood covered his head easily, his jeans torn away by the years of filth and decay. The fact the dim lights made him seem even more ominous was an entirely unpleasant display, and even for Rivalz the portrayal made the environment foreboding enough to mar the once happy conversations now slowly beginning to die out.

But it wasn't the guy's fault, right? After all, he wasn't the one bawling his eyes out.

He hurriedly came to the side of the table, as he scrutinizes the critic's now immature face. "Is um…is everything alright…?"

"W-what…?" the man managed to whimper. "Who the hell is asking?"

"…The manager…?"

 _"_ _Where the hell is my damn food?!"_ he started spouting, the alcohol washing over Rivalz. His face was slightly flushed, and the glassed over look in his eyes made the boy turn back and glare at the now cowering employee. "And what about _him_ , huh? _What the hell is he supposed to eat?!"_

"S-sir…?"

"Do you know who the _fuck_ I _am_?!"

Rivalz held his hands in front of him, with no clue of what he was supposed to do.

"Go on! Say somethin'! _Show this damn brat-!"_

Immediately, the new guest grabbed the critic's wrist and squeezed it desperately, trying to prevent any further damage from accumulating. He turned to Rivalz and bowed lowly, as if apologizing for his party's rude behavior.

His hood slipped away, then, revealing a set of warm, searingly honey eyes that, at that instant, caused him to fall silent. Brown, silky hair etched over into his face, and though his bangs weren't prominent, they were long enough for the strands to cover a bit of his confused, alarmed expression.

It was then Rivalz found himself staring at the face of his best friend.

* * *

Kallen nervously sat across from Gino, burying herself in the menu as he kept rambling on and on about some sports team in Canada. She bent down and sipped her iced tea, all the while anxiously looking up and scanning the outside, her fingers drumming erratically on her knees. Her eyes kept searching for the waiter, skimming through the tiny, elegant words as she brushed away her hair. _Hurry up,_ she thought desperately.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

Neither of them had any time for this, albeit she cornered herself in this unlikely predicament. She completely forgot about her little date with Gino, so she had to stash Naoko somewhere else for the time being. She managed to sneak him into Rivalz kitchen through the back, and though the action was noticeable enough, by some miracle Gino never saw her shoving Naoko through the door (why the blonde was even there, she had no idea). The inside was warm however, and she managed to whisper to him to stay put until she could fend off Gino.

Which, unfortunately, she couldn't do, and as a result, she's forced to sit here and endure his meaningless tirades of the "joys of being a commoner". Naoko was probably still sitting in that kitchen, wondering just when she was going to come back. It was only a matter of time before he started wandering off on his own, just as he did before. Meanwhile, it was almost closing time for Rivalz, and as soon as he walked into that kitchen to close up, more than likely he's going to find Naoko. Was he hiding right now? Did she tell him to hide?

"Kallen?"

"Hmm?"

"Ah…would you like to go somewhere else?" he asked hesitantly. "I mean, I hear Tokyo Tower's got a really big Christmas tree just right in front of it. And the ice skating rink is beautiful, especially at night, though it's closed now, of course." He chuckled beside himself.

Kallen sighed, and gave him a tiny smile. "Sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

His friendly grin vanished then, replaced by a nostalgic, solemn expression in which not even Kallen could read his thoughts. "Naoko again?"

"How'd you-?"

"C'mon Kallen, that's all you ever talk about. Listen, I know you're worried about him and everything, but you really should just relax. It's not like he's helpless without you, you know?"

"I was helping him move out, actually…" Her voice faltered, as she groped for an appropriate excuse within the contents of her thick mind. "He ah…he's going somewhere for school…"

A brief flash of disappointment flickered across Gino's face. "Not TU? What? Is he going to one of those dance studios?"

"I'm not s…" Her fingers stopped drumming, and immediately, she looked up, astonished by his statement. Gino simply took another sip of his soda, his finger twirling the straw around the cup nonchalantly. He winced when she leaned in a bit. "Naoko dances?"

"You didn't know that?"

"No…I didn't. Where'd you-?"

"Saw him the other day," Gino recalled. "You know that stupid piano club that hangs around Yasuda Auditorium?"

Kallen held her breath. "What about them?"

"Apparently, Naoko was sitting there waiting for you." he explained. "I just happened to come along, and I just…saw him dancing. A lot of the members put him up to it. I'll admit, he's really good."

"I…I see." Kallen sat back in her seat, her hand resting on the edge of the table. "I had no idea."

There was a tense pause between the two, the girl fidgeting in her seat, as she sat back to recollect the sudden revelation of Naoko dancing. Because of his fragile, scrawny build, she never thought he'd do something as demanding as that, though he was focused enough. It came as a bit of a shock to her, since she was always trying to keep him from trouble, however impossible that was. She bit her lip, and clutched her knee with her palms.

Gino nodded awkwardly, and stared down at the floors. "Well, now you know…"

"Were there…any problems?"

"No. Once the guy starts, even Britannians stop and stare. The guy's amazing."

"Y-yeah."

"You know, they really want him to perform in the upcoming convention." he continued. "Doesn't matter if he's a student or not as long as he's good. I mean, it's a shame to let all that talent go to waste."

Kallen guarded herself once again, biting her lip as his words echoed from the back of her mind. Before she could open her mouth, however, Gino interrupted. "Kallen, that guy has nothing to do with the former Emperor. Everyone will see it that way too. If you'd just loosen up a little-"

"Gino…he just can't."

He scoffed, a very evident frown tugging at his lips. "What? Are you his girlfriend or something?"

She blushed unwillingly, her embarrassment skyrocketing when Gino's eyes widened. "N-no! It's nothing like that! It's-"

"Kallen, Naoko is nothing like Lelouch," he whispered menacingly.

"W-what?"

"Look, I understand your feelings-"

"No, wait, back up a minute," she said, her tone becoming more and more aggressive by the second. "You said Naoko is nothing like Lelouch. Well, considering the fact the guy _dances_ is alone to prove that, right? Is that what you're trying to say? If it is, let's move on from this topic."

"Are you _serious_ , Kallen? You're treating him like a freaking kid!"

"I'm _keeping_ him _safe."_

"From _what,_ exactly?" Gino challenged. "Yeah, new terrorists. You think you're the only one paying attention to this stuff? The whole _world_ is watching Kallen, not just you. Just because a group of terrorists hijack our school, doesn't mean they have anything to do with Naoko. There are a lot of influential people attending TU, remember? Any one of us could've been their target."

"I highly doubt that," she murmured.

Gino gripped his cup tightly. "I swear. This is probably just some messed up way to-"

"So what if it is? It's a hell of a lot better than-"

She froze.

Her attention rerouted itself away from the squirming blonde, who by now was seething angrily at his date, as she stared off in the distance, toward a table where she caught sight of her friend, Rivalz, standing in front of two diners. The old man was internally debating on whether he preferred being sober or drunk, tears cascading to the once pristine napkins to which his food lay untouched, while his companion just sat there, shaking his head, bowing repeatedly, doing whatever he could to make the manager, as well as his curious audience, go away.

Kallen threw aside her napkin and stood.

* * *

Naoko stood awkwardly between the two, painfully wringing his fingers while gazing out the kitchen doors at the remainder the customers, all of whom were reluctantly leaving the comfortable, hazy restaurant with tiny, plastic boxes tucked underneath their arms. He kept his dark eyes trained on the entrance, counting the trickling of bodies to which once gave the business troublesome onuses. Employees soon followed behind, leaving behind their aprons and notepads, counting the tips they received from this one night.

He didn't dare look back at the two friends, who were, as of this point, looking away from one another, trying to make sense of the chaos that'd just erupted.

He felt Kallen's intense glare boring his back, and slowly, he began shrinking away. Obviously being bored wasn't a plausible excuse, nor was giving a sad, brokenhearted man alcohol a wise choice, considering how many complaints the manager received.

What's more, it seems Naoko managed to ruin his credibility, which may or may not cause his career, and therefore his only sole reason for living, to sink even further into the depths of depression. Whether he intended for this to happen or not was a matter of opinion really, since, from what he could tell, the man's job prospect was plummeting anyways. Nevertheless, the guilt was there, stuck unpleasantly to Naoko's mind with unbridled thoughts of suicide or abuse.

Then again, she shouldn't have snuck in through the back door to begin with.

Kallen sighed then. "He's the one I was telling you about."

"I…you want me to…?"

"Yeah. The guy's got no other place to stay. The landlady threw him out after some of the neighbors complained."

"Wow. Pretty…pretty harsh."

"Rivalz, please. He didn't do anything wrong. He just…he just needs somewhere to live for a while."

Naoko suddenly felt a light tap on his shoulder, and he turned, once again staring back at the blue-haired man with wide, ashen eyes. Like Kallen, there was a hint of familiarity in the corners of his expression, though Naoko couldn't see why. After a few more moments, Rivalz smiled halfheartedly, and folded his arms across his chest, a temporal flash of camaraderie emotionally exchanged between he and Kallen.

And Naoko couldn't help but wonder what sort of relationship these two had. Was they close enough to make Gino storm off like that?

"Naoko, right?" Rivalz suddenly asked.

Slowly, he nodded.

"Can't remember anything, huh? Must be hard."

He shrugged.

"So?" Kallen pressed. "What'd you say?"

Rivalz stared at Naoko for another long while, before chirping a content, "Sure."


	31. Chapter 31

Kallen sighed, her hand resting on her forehead, as she stared up at the ceiling, the golden specks rotating around her sleep filled body. Her hair was splayed all over the covers, while her dimly lit eyes contrasted greatly with the pale, bright room to which the sun bestowed upon it its warmth. Silence adorned the room heavily; the once messy floors were now cleanly emptied, the remnants of whatever food particles were scattered on the rugs now removed, with an unpleasant reminder of a guest that was tragically taken from that world. From outside the bedroom doors, the familiar sounds of the steaming teapot were nowhere to be found, and even the neglected corners from which delicate, silky spiderwebs came swirling around the bend was left abandoned. The books that lay on the floor were neatly stacked against one another, ready to be taken back to the shelves of where they slept, all the while crying out a brief farewell to the avid reader who once fancied their words and pictures, rather than reality itself.

Dust particles kept dancing around her room, never once stopping for neither a reason nor a desire; the aimless objects continued their endless, repetitive patterns, settling wherever they may want, their fickle natures alone refusing to touch the cold edge of life. Kallen could practically reach out and touch those particles with the tip of her nails, and though they may avoid her own, mundane surface, she could still catch a glimpse of the tiny things before it disappears altogether, leaving nothing more than a dream sitting atop an illusion. Her emotionless stare kept track of every single, little bit of dust, refusing to lose sight of even one of them. It was until they began disappearing under the growing shadows did Kallen drag her attention to something else.

She closed her eyes, and sat up then, her hands lying on the bed. Once again, her cellphone began ringing. Perhaps it was her mother, who wanted to know what she wanted for dinner, however lonely it was going to be tonight, or Zero, who wanted to issue another order. Maybe Nunnally wanted something; the girl did, after all, invite her to the next meeting. Even more humorous was Tamaki, who was courteous enough to demand for her help the moment the restaurant was understaffed. She could hitch a ride with Oghi, if she really wanted to.

She turned away from the device, her gaze settling on the plethora of photos she once treasured. She briefly skimmed through the pictures, an empty smile drawing on her cracked lips. She ran her hand through her hair, crimson spilling from her fingers, as old feelings resurfaced, emotions in which she would never have thought about otherwise. Vibrant colors scattered across the pictures, and albeit a stray blur here and there, there was nothing wrong with them otherwise. Kallen chuckled at a few, while laughed at some others.

And her eyes finally came to Lelouch, who offered her the same smile as everyone else.

Her nostalgic mood instantly vanished, a slight frown coming upon her face. Her nails clutched the covers, the peace she managed to manifest now gone within the second. Her fatigue faded, and whatever thoughts she carried so preciously in her arms was stolen away. Rather than the devotion she used to have toward her beloved, along with remorse and regret, she felt none of those troublesome sensations at that time. She could hear her cellphone ringing continuously from behind, over and over again, the tune jabbing her eardrums without mercy or care, and finally, it stopped.

"I'm sorry," she whispered bitterly.

There was only that simple, despairing quiet, an atmosphere Kallen refused to resign herself in. Though she knew her own guilt, though she could feel the trembling within the depths of her own soul, she grew frustrated all the same. She clenched her teeth. "What else do you want me to do?"

Nothing.

"The world is working together to bring down Alfheimr," she continued. "We've still got our own problems, but things will work out. What more do you want?"

She clutched her fists as the silence continued, giving her whatever it could without satisfying her vengeful lusts in the least. She stared at the picture with fervent eyes, her fiery perseverance radiating once again within her frame. "The Zero Requiem was your idea, remember? That was your mistake. Don't drag everyone else down with you just because you don't want to suffer."

After another pause, Kallen slid off her bed, and stretched. Her shadow glazed over the brilliant, temporal rays which were all too quickly beginning to disappear, their warmth gradually easing away from the girl's body. She stood there for a moment, before turning around, anger entwined in that cold expression of hers. "You know, because of you Naoko had to leave. If you hadn't ruined everything, he could've stayed with us. We could've been his family, and he wouldn't have needed those memories anymore."

Those familiar, haughty purple orbs stared back at her, scrutinizing her every action, examining what it could if only to degrade her further. And in those untraceable, handsome features, Kallen found herself staring at her old companion once again.

Lelouch Lamperouge, the lazy student who cared very much for his friends, though he refused to believe it. Zero, the fearsome commander that could very well have destroyed Britannia and claim the throne within his very hands, a man Kallen would've died serving for. Lelouch vi Britannia, the enemy of the world, the Demon Emperor who enslaved countless number of nations, if only to grab the very thing he desired for. A boy who got caught up in everything. A man who loved his little sister very much, and was willing to do anything that would secure her safety. A friend that people could rely on, no matter how many lies he's told, or how many lives he's ruined.

"Why?" she asked. "Is it because you were wrong? This era isn't what you imagined, is it? After all, people are still fighting, still dying. Poverty, war, every little thing caused by human nature; they're all still here."

She barked out a harsh laugh. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were haunting me." She blinked, tightening her fists. "If I didn't know…"

Her voice faltered, and automatically, she slammed her fist against the picture, losing her composure in that unfortunate moment. "This isn't some damn fairytale!" she screamed. "What more could you ask for? We're all trying our best, and it's not like you're innocent either!

"What? You think _just_ because you're a _prince_ you can do whatever the hell you want?! You think the world just _revolves_ around you?! Stop playing that stupid ignorance card! You broke a lot of damn hearts out there! You _murdered_ people! You _lied_ to us! Lied to _me!_ And after all that _we still took your damn shit!_ You can't just _waltz_ in here now and do whatever the hell you please! _Understand?!"_

She panted heavily, glaring at the picture malevolently. Once again, that dreaded quiet descended upon the atmosphere, and it was only through that did Kallen managed to steady herself. The tension in her muscles slowly released, leaving her own turbulence with little hesitation, though her brain stubbornly clung to it with all its might, leaving little room for clear thought.

When that mood finally passed over, the pilot sighed, collapsing onto her chair without delay.

What was she doing? This was a picture Kallen was arguing with. It's not like it can answer back or anything.

* * *

She walked through the dining hall, the hem of her dress sweeping away the debris that was so very callously scattered over the tiles. Bright green strands flew behind her back, the edges cascading down her pale collarbone, before spilling over the folds of the verdant cloth. A golden corset was tied below the waist, along with silver lace which was elegantly tied below her bodice. Forlorn emerald sleeves tugged at her elbows, the long tendrils of clothing flowing gracelessly toward the soles of her bare feet. The dark golden vines swirled around her low neckline, the thread tightly embedded near her throat, choking it with whatever beauty it could muster. A black feather hung low from her hair, her braids falling from the hideous thing as her footsteps echoed away from her body.

Dark shadows fell beneath her lilac eyes, along with the slightest hint of paint and charcoal marring her fingers deliberately, their stains carefully avoiding the dress in which she was chained by. In the left arm she carried a sketchpad consisting of ugly faces the artist rather not see again, outlines that were by far more demonic than human, or fairy, for that matter. In her right arm she held three canvases, all of whom held fast to the painted dreams she indulged in, both heaven and hell alike.

And she couldn't help but stare down at the paintings mournfully, knowing full well that today, her beloved, stained glass was about to go to someone else, someone more monstrous and sinful.

Still, Morgan held her breath, and proceeded down the corridor. The arched windows carried along with them a cold, pristine reflection to which the cold, archaic forest lay. There were six silver soldiers positioned on each side of the walls, all of whom carried grey banners with blue, angelic wings etched to the back, all of whom proclaimed his Majesty's gloriousness, all of whom wore that same, expressionless mask upon the very edges of what insignificant sanity they had left. Burdened by the orders of their king, and left with nothing but an empty corpse to greet their souls; it was something Morgan pitied them for, however pathetic and undeserving they were of that sympathy.

Masquerading as a living creature, when the witch merely came one foot away from them, she could already smell the stench of the bodies hidden behind the metal. If she squinted, and leaned in just a bit, she could make out tiny, dry bloodstains which came from the armor's mouth, as well as the rust for which Arthur killed his victims in before casting away their organs. She would see a new victim every time she came back here, either stuffed one of those armors, or simply being carried to the stakes to be impaled, to serve as a warning to everyone of what would happen should they cross the spoiled aristocrat.

She stopped near the black, iron doors, and stood back, casting a frosty, callous look at a nearby servant. The boy stood there for a mere second, before hastily obeying the fool's command and forcing open the doors to which the throne room lay. She took a deep breath, and walked in.

The room itself was very different from how she remembered it to be. The once light filled arches were now replaced by oppressive, maddening curtains, the crimson hanging heavily along the fragile surface of the windows. There were white, theatrical masks placed in the front of the balconies, a dark, silky ribbon keeping the faces in tact. Smiles and frowns kept gazing down on her as she came forward, their blank eyes staring at her, watching her with every step taken, every little pure lullaby which might still be left inside her voice. The columns were covered with dead, spiraling vines, with unopened buds that could never have hoped to survive the shadow like tales of the realities which lay before it. Leaves lay crumpled under her foot, and when she kneeled, she could feel their fragile spines bending from beneath her weight.

The throne was golden. It was covered with a black rug strung together by Queen Mab's magic, embedded with a tiny bone, one that she's never seen before. The white checkered floors aided the grandeur of that one simple chair, and though its spiky head wasn't very necessary for something as informal as this, the generals were all here, ready and waiting for the orders from the king.

There was one thing that would always catch Morgan's attention, something in which she could never bring herself to ask the monster about, nor could she tell about to Lisette. It was perhaps the only thing Morgan could be proud of in this cruel, twisted kingdom of hers. That factor took precedence in a painting of Queen Guinevere, which hung high above the walls.

Her lovely, rosette locks descended down the folds of her black dress, her bare legs showing off a deadly raper that might as well have served as an executioner's weapon, whether the legends be true or not. Her tense, lavender eyes regarded her audience evenly, and the way she held herself, the cruel posture which placed every visitor beneath her, as well as her gaze, the hint of that kindhearted, compassionate spirit Morgan had heard so much about, was enough to make any soldier fall silent, regardless of if they wanted to or not. Her portrait was adorned by a old, wooden frame, with ostentatious, feathery wings decorated from the top, as well as tiny, spiteful flowers covering the bottom. However, like the other objects in this castle, the commemoration wasn't exempted from the decay; dust was already beginning to take hold of the witch's masterpiece, and it won't be long before the nails spring loose from their holes, causing the artwork to collapse altogether.

When Arthur first ordered her to paint such a thing, she couldn't tell if his Highness was being serious, or if he was testing her integrity, or what. She didn't mind the task at all, and personally, it was the only thing she looked forward to doing for a while; she, as well as the citizens, have all heard of Guinevere's magnificent reign. She was a good monarch, neither allowing poverty nor crime nor war to run rampant within the Courts. She was the one who defeated Titania and revived the Seelie Courts, the one who subjected the Lady of the Lake in order to free the people from their shackles. When she died, she chose Arthur as her successor, and since then, he'd been living off her slowly stagnating wealth and power, though his military influence was gradually increasing with each day.

A bit of a fairytale, in her opinion, but alas, there was nothing wrong with something as carefree as that. Propaganda, after all, was vital in every epoch, and though by now the people have more than likely realized there was something amiss with that story, by then it'd already be too late. Their rebellions would be far too disorganized, and even if the nobles aided the peasants with resources and funding, in the end Arthur had the mind and magic necessary to put those charming, fleeting wars down. There was nothing the livestock could do about it, and so, they had to sit back, Morgan included, and watch as the pig spirits away the harvests, slaughter the innocent, prey on women and children and men alike.

Morgan bit her lip, turning her attention away from the portrait, as she silently gazes at the generals, who were standing around the room, watching the witch from afar. There were a few faces she managed to recognize, predators that kept their civilized facades, if only for a tiny bit more. They lived simply for the sake of the battlefield, doing whatever it took to avoid the now optional judgement, for which hell evaded them easily, while heaven cast down a scornful eye at the comrades wallowing in their blood-soaked nightmares. In a way, it was a poetic end; it didn't matter how much of an unhappy tragedy the story turned out to be. They were all happy.

And yet, out of all of them, sitting at the top of it all was Arthur.

She fought down an abhorrent scowl, as she bowed toward the monster, her knees unsteady. She kept the canvases clean, reassuring herself that the paint was already dry, as she murmured, "Your Majesty."

"Jester," he replied lazily.

Through his reflection upon the floors, she could make out his lustful eyes claiming her body, memorizing her submissive attitude, her curves ingrained in his mind. He nodded, and she stood.

"I've completed the outlines," she announced, causing the generals to turn toward her, the pleasant surprise embracing their normally brutal thoughts. "I've also finished the ballroom, as well as my latest masterpiece, Dreamer." Carefully, she set the canvas down on the ground, and turned it around, unveiling the pathetic child in front of the demon.

He smirked haughtily. "And what of Mordred?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Forgive me, your Highness. But I cannot draw someone I do not see."

"You've given me that same pitiful excuse for the last decade now."

"Yet that is my truth," she whispered quietly, sliding her eyes toward the floors. "I'm terribly sorry, but I cannot abide by your request."

"Really? A pity then," Arthur stated, folding his hands against his torso, his white, horrid armor blinding her sight like so. "Like you, he was a favorite of mine. Such a shame his portrait will never be drawn. Your art is dull enough as is."

Morgan raised a delicate eyebrow. "Sir?"

"Although your works are wonderful," the tyrant began, the snickers erupting from across the room, "they all show the same thing. Such delightful scenes I'm sure, but soldiers cannot be motivated by lighthearted subjects like enchanted forests, or princes or princesses…or anything of the sort. Surely you, of all people, understand that much?"

She grimaced, her nails latching onto the painting harshly. "Perfectly."

"A change of scenery then?" one of the nobles suggested.

Without hesitation, Morgan whipped her head toward the sound of that crude voice, only to find Taliesin standing there, arms folded, a prideful sneer smeared across his ugly face.

Dark, red curls descended down his cheek, a deep tan stretching throughout his body. He wore a simple white blouse, with brown trousers that hugged his legs thoughtfully. Like Morgan, he was also barefoot, though his muscles protruded grotesquely through his clothing. Though he was a bard, a "poet" of sorts, he did nothing at all to help his reputation; his lecherous lyrics forced the girls he was courting to lock themselves away in the convent, and if those efforts hadn't deterred him, by next light the girls would be discovered in his bed, half-naked, torn to shreds, and crying their hearts out. He did nothing to aid his artistic sensibilities, and whatever talent he had was always used to point out his next target. All the scheming he did had gone noticed by the Arthur's Court, but since the activity was already a regular occurrence, no one did anything to stop the artist. In fact they applauded him for finding such inspiration, all in the span of a few centuries.

Morgan straightened herself, and removed the obedient act she so artfully perfected. "Thank you," she challenged, "but I can handle myself."

"Come now milady," the fairy joked, as he leaned against the window. "It's a fool's job to entertain their masters, isn't it? If the king is bored with your current portrayals, why not try for another inspiration? Why not seek out that violent excitement? After all," he flourishes his arms around his fellow peers, "everyone here enjoys the same thing."

"People tend to like Guinevere's era," she spat, relishing in that tiny relapse of pain that illustrated itself so jubilantly on Arthur's face.

"Still clinging to that stupid idea, huh?" Taliesin turned to Arthur with a wide, heathen grin. "I mean, no offense, of course. But his Highness seems to have gotten over his lost Lenore just fine. Isn't that right?"

"Mind your tongue," Cailleach suddenly burst, stepping out of the shadows, a slight frown adorning her face. Morgan spun around, and met the fairy's cool, icy gaze with her own, the memories coming so hastily toward the witch. Black hair descended from her skull, and lively, vibrant green eyes stared back at her with a devilish, bewitching temptation that could twist the strongest of hearts into something hideous, monstrous. Alongside Taliesin, she's had her own fair share of lovers, the unfortunate souls, and like Arthur, she's known for torturing them, happily giving into their suicidal desires before destroying their existence completely, eradicating whatever they had left for which they could still cling desperately to life. A skin-tight, black robe suited her just fine, showing off her legs, as well as her cleavage, if only to seduce more victims. Interestingly enough, however, she's never succeeded with Arthur. "Remember whose presence you're in."

Taliesin scoffed, sliding his gaze toward Arthur. "Your Majesty?"

"The battlefield is no place for a woman of your stature," Arthur ruled, his eyes piercing through Morgan's body. "However, for you I'll make an exception. You should be grateful, and personally, I liked your old works anyways."

She stiffened, clutching her skirts with her hand as she resisted that subtle urge to walk away then and there. She bit her tongue until she could taste the iron, preventing her from saying anything foolish within the man's presence. "Very well," she muttered. "I'll have Lisette accompany me-"

"No, I've something more appropriate in mind."

Arthur waved over Sucellus, who eagerly ran toward the king and leaned forward, his hands patiently behind his back as he listened to his master's request. His grey beard touched Arthur's armor slightly, the wrinkles upon his once creamy skin now slowly beginning to descend to the floors, his height little more than an inhuman munchkin, in Morgan's eyes. He wore little more than a brown, old, worn-out tunic, and though he wore golden sandals, the soles of his feet were covered with dirt and clay. His old, trembling hands kept shaking in awe of being so close to the king, and before long, when he turned, that vivid, bright, enthusiastic light which grazed his normally dull, grey corneas were filled wondrously. He looked down at Morgan, and shot her a very vain glare.

Morgan stared cautiously at Arthur. "Your Majesty?"

"It seems there is a bit of an uproar in Winchester," he explained. "For some reason, the local militias are having a difficult time putting the citizens down. Sucellus has graciously asked for my aid before, so this should be no problem. You may accompany Neit; he will give you a personal Knightmare you can use for your own, artistic purposes."

Morgan's eyes widened. "For something as simple as that? Sir-"

"If I don't show these people my power, they will rebel again, Lady Morgan," he hissed then, causing the entire room to fall silent. "We cannot allow any distractions, especially now."

She took a tiny step back from the monarch's wrath. She knew full well what had happened to the jester, the one who was locked inside that disgusting cage. Somehow, he was set free, and now, the entirety of the realms were paying a very dear price for his escape. Though she never met him, and could hardly recall a single moment she saw him perform, Morgan knew well enough that Arthur was fond of the boy. So she swallowed her pride and asked the king when he was willing to deploy the royal guard.

Arthur smiled then, pleased at her resignation. "In two days," he explained. "That gives us an ample amount of time to prepare the feast. Wouldn't you agree, Morgan?"

* * *

Author's Note:

Hello, I am the Seelie Court Jester.

-The Lost Lenore is a reference to Edgar Allen Poe's poem, _Nevermore,_ a gothic love story in which the lovesick narrator sees a raven flying into his room every night, foreshadowing the character's death. In literature, the Lost Lenore is used to refer to a dead love interest.

\- Taliesin is a celtic deity. He is the deity of the bards, of prince and song. Sucellus, meanwhile, is the deity of agriculture and the forest. Neit is the deity of war, and Cailleach is a weather deity, and referred to as a "hag."


	32. Chapter 32

Nunnally peered around the streets, the lively atmosphere beginning to take hold of the tiny marketplaces as she squeezed her way through the sea of bodies. She tugged the grey trench coat over her white, wool sweater, as she continued down the avenue, resisting the urge to stop and stare at the vivid procession of people dancing near her. Her jeans hugged her legs, the rough fabric reminding her of what she should be doing as of now. Though a tiny smile tugged at the edge of her lips, she raced away from the crowds, barely managing to avoid scrutiny from the precocious onlookers.

Colorful flags of every nation adorned the buildings nearby, and though fake cherry blossom trees took a more commanding hold of the sidewalks, she couldn't help but make out a few familiar red envelops blowing through the winter zephyrs. The hues matched so very well with the miniature christmas trees settled near the booths, their ornaments gleefully shimmering along the holiday colors. Smiles were plastered on their faces, with tiny toddlers waddling here and there, their small hands reaching for whatever objects they found amusing. And it was because of that Nunnally couldn't help but wonder if they had already forgotten the terrorist attack. However, her ears perked when she heard a few alarmed whispers here and there, a few pondering on the mysterious, troubled girl was and she turned, her light brown locks peaking out from under her hat. She kept on moving, wasting no time with the wonderful booths that would've claimed all her attention on another day.

She made her way through the narrow pathways, the ice coinciding lovingly with the cool shade of the soaring residential buildings overhead. Carefully, she looks around, trying to catch a glimpse of Ella, who was, as of this point, trying to move as quickly as her younger sister had. Nunnally sighed then, and slowed a bit, waiting patiently for the woman to catch up to her, however difficult it was. Her legs allowed the cold to entwine, and she could feel herself becoming more and more still, until finally, Cornelia paused in front of her.

"Nunna," she managed finally, her purple bangs showing from beneath her lavender hood. Black gloves coated her fragile hands, and worn out, baggy blue jeans replaced her regular military attire. She wore no makeup, much to her surprise; the change was so drastic Nunnally was quite shocked at how mundane she looked, how normal she had become. It was a difference though the Empress welcomed. "Slow down next time."

She raised a eyebrow. "You didn't have to come with me. You could've just sent some of your men."

"I'd rather not," Ella replied. "I've heard of Kozuki, and wanted to assess her social skills a bit. I don't feel comfortable with allowing strangers by your side either, or at least, strangers I don't know very well."

"I'm not a baby, sister."

"You're younger than me, aren't you?"

"It's not much farther," Nunnally playfully dismissed, as she grabbed Ella's wrist and proceeded toward a simple, apartment complex around the corner of the street. "You could use a little exercise. All that desk work's making you fat."

Ella shot her coy smile, before pinching her cheeks. "You're one to talk."

The girl smirked, before slapping her hand away and proceeding toward the complex. She took one step, and then another, before finally, she found herself in front of Kallen's apartment door. She looked up at the intimidating edifice, before raising her knuckles to knock on the door. She called Kallen beforehand, letting her know that both she and Cornelia were coming. Though the pilot hadn't been answering any of her calls, hopefully she took some time to, at least, scroll through the messages.

After a few more moments of silence, she knocked again. Still, there was nothing. Nunnally couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. Perhaps something came up?

"Hey!"

She jolted, and spun around, only to be thrust behind Ella's back. The woman's hand automatically came to her waist, her finger handling a certain pistol strapped to the side of her thigh.

Nunnally blinked, and looked up, seeing a middle-aged woman storming toward them, eyes narrowed, fists clenched. A pink shawl covered her shoulders, and though she was wearing a white sundress, she had an oversized black jacket over her, which made the woman look more emaciated than she already was.

Nunnally tugged at Ella's hand, as she managed to catch a glimpse of the woman's haughty expression, her dark eyes casting a very bad shadow on the two. Nunnally took a deep breath "Um…I-"

"I already told you brats!" the woman shouted. "He moved out! Go on! Get to your jobs already!"

"N-no, wait," the girl continued, trying to move Ella aside with her tiny hands. "You don't understand. We're not-"

"I already know what you bakas want! He's gone! Now go before I call the police!"

"Ma'am, please calm down." Ella stated simply, her muscles relaxing when she removed her finger from the gun. "There's no problem here."

The woman gawked at the sisters, her lips twisting into a very unpleasant smile, as she folded her arms over her oversized chest, and regarded them stiffly. "This is my property. I can have you arrested for trespassing."

Nunnally blinked. "Wait…are you the landlady here?"

"I am." the woman said calmly, before, once again, losing her composure. " _Get out of_ -!"

"Nunna," Ella whispered as she held the inquisitive monarch back into the folds of her arms, "we need to go. What are you trying to accomplish anyways?"

"Did you not hear me?! Do you know who I am?!"

The girl bit her lip. "Please, give me a little more time-"

" _What are you both still doing here?!"_

Nunnally sighed then, and made her way toward the woman, removing herself from Ella's steel grip while slightly lifting her hat. She glared up at the landlady cool eyes, and returned her rudeness. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

The landlady paused then, frozen in her place, her prideful vanity dying down to nothingness. She stared at Nunnally for a moment, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping inch by inch, as the thought of her standing before the Britannian Empress sank deeply into her mind. "I…I…"

"What's your name?" the girl asked, grabbing the woman's wrist and holding her close. The landlady visibly gulped, before stammering, "I-Inori. Sasaki."

"Ms. Sasaki," Nunnally said coolly, as she turned and led her toward Kallen's door. She could feel Ella's eyes boring her back, while she attempted to intimidate the woman without any clue of what she was doing. She glared at her sister when she caught a stray giggle escape from her throat, though the predicament was, in itself, a bit humorous. "Please calm down." the girl urged gently.

"R-right," the poor woman managed, leaning against the frame as she tried making sense as to why the Empress was visiting one of her tenants.

Nunnally stared at her for a moment, before crossing her arms. "Do you know who Kallen Kozuki is?"

"I…I ah-"

"Answer the question Ms. Sasaki."

"O-of course…" she whispered. "S-she and her mother live here." Her finger hastily points out the door, her palm refusing to move an inch from the doorway. "I am…I'm terribly sorry…I thought you were-"

"It's fine. But it's a shame they aren't home. I'm a bit curious though; what did you think we were doing?"

"I…I apologize," Ms. Sasaki whimpered, turning her gaze away from Nunnally. "I'm just a bit on edge lately. Please, don't trouble yourself with me."

"No, it's fine," she pressed, brushing aside the sharp gaze Ella gave her. She smiled sweetly, and held her hands behind her back, memories of respect and admiration for the culture pouring down on her. She bowed her head, before continuing on with the somewhat amiable interrogation. "I kept noticing how you said "he" when you were screaming. Was he one of your tenants?"

"No, he wasn't." She started to relax a bit, though she appeared to be on the verge of collapsing. "He lived with the Kozukis for a while…why? Is there something the matter?"

"I'm just a little concerned."

The woman laughed. "No, it's fine. As I said, no need to trouble yourself with the problem. It's already been taken cared of."

Nunnally narrowed her eyes. "What was the problem?"

"Ah…a nice young boy really," she chuckled nervously. "Never met another man like him. If my daughter weren't married, I'm sure I'd recommend him for a husband."

"Ma'am?"

Ms. Sasaki paused, before turning away shamefully. "He brought a bit of bad luck with him. He never did anything wrong, but a lot of people complained. It wasn't the boy's fault for being so handsome. I don't know; perhaps they were all just jealous."

"Why did they complain?"

"People kept saying he was the Demon Emperor incarnate, or some other nonsense as that." Ms. Sasaki stated, brushing away her raven strands from her eyes. "It seems everywhere he went, he couldn't avoid being insulted. A majority of the time, he would just stay at home, though he's been seen walking around the neighborhood."

"And he moved out?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Just last week."

Nunnally bit the inside of her cheek, as she tore her gaze away from the woman. Alfheimr comes and shows the fool known as Mordred, for both she and Suzaku to see. There was an attack at the university, where that same fool was residing in the same classroom as Kallen. Coupled with the fact that the man looked so very similar to her brother, the situation was too suspicious, too uncanny to simply be called off as a coincidence. The man moved out from Kallen's apartment some time before…more than likely it was Mordred.

She knew how Kallen felt about her brother. No, rather she knew how the pilot felt about _Zero._ Did she take him in? Did she know what would happen had anyone found out about her little guest? Was it because of how much he resembled Lelouch that Kallen helped him?

What a very ironic thought.

Nunnally bowed. "Thank you so much, Ms. Sasaki."

"N-no!" the woman squeaked, apparently catching sight of another one of Ella's death glares. "I-it's fine! I…I should be thanking you for taking such an interest. After all, it's not everyday a queen shows up at your business." She leaned in a bit. "But, concerning that young man…he's not-?"

"Of course not," Nunnally answered softly. "He's actually… someone very dear to me."

* * *

Rivalz awoke to the sound of the microwave beeping.

He mumbled softly, rubbing is weary eyes, a strange aroma coming off from his fingers. He heard footsteps from outside the bedroom, and from underneath the covers, he saw a shadow slowly walking toward the kitchen, making not a single sound as to wake the boy.

Rivalz closed his eyes, then stretched lazily, the warmth surrounding his body so readily. His arm raised itself in the air, his hand groping the empty space, as he sat up tiredly, his eyes stealing a quick glimpse at the digital clock nearby resting on the windowsill. Already twelve, huh?

Reluctantly, he pulled both legs out of the blankets, his light blue pants unwillingly meeting the cold. Though he had a light sweater on, and the heater was turned all the way up, Rivalz still managed to shiver. His deep, turquoise hair messily coated his skull, as he blinked away the slumber, taking a look around his room, thankful that, once again, Naoko managed to pick up the scraps of food left over from last night.

He sighed, tossing away the black fabric which happily fell off to the side, a pile of clothes entwined to the side of the bed. He scratched his head, and blinked away the excessive light for which that small window gave, the mountainside giving way to the shimmering, iridescent view of the lake just ahead. The afternoon glare managed to make its way into his room, the light reflecting across the warm, wooden floorboards, a surface Rivalz should think about replacing later on. A closet was situated near the window, the doors creaked open a tiny bit, revealing a welcoming darkness for which Rivalz could stash the fondest of memories inside. A tiny, wooden table lay near the foot of his bed, one that sheltered a house of cards that somehow managed to stay stable. When he caught sight of it, he simply chuckled to himself, then tipped over the top with his finger, causing the entire stack to fall. He turned around, and walked out of the room.

To his left, was a wall made of glass, a feature Rivalz had come to find convenient, as it gave him a clear view of not just the surrounding mountain side, but also of Tokyo's city lights. The kitchen was toward the back of the room, the oak cabinets a bit rundown, the countertops a bit rusty. A worn out, brown sofa was situated in the middle of the room, and a television set was mounted onto the wall, a tiny bookcase underneath it to keep it from falling. There was a kotatsu sitting beneath the countertop, with green folds descending to the white tiled floors. As of now, that was perhaps the only luxury he could afford, though with the progress the restaurant had been making, Rivalz could very easily move out of the mountain based apartment. It was a bit cramped here anyways.

As he strolled in, he saw Naoko, who was opening a warm, ramen noodle cup on the couch. He wore that same sweater again, the black, oversized one that was seemingly made more so like a blanket than clothing. Rivalz smiled. "You gonna share any of that?"

Naoko smirked, gesturing toward the back of the kitchen. Rivalz shrugged, and maneuvered toward the countertop, snatching away the plastic cup and grabbing a pair of chopsticks lying onto the drawers. "You use this?"

His roommate shook his head. _No._

Rivalz sauntered back to the guy and sat across from him, breathing a relieved sigh when the first noodle touched his tongue. He savored the seasoning, and relaxed immediately, his body stealing whatever warmth it could from the soup. He sighed gratefully, allowing himself to sink into that same goodness. "We've got the day off."

Naoko blinked. _We do?_

"Yeah," Rivalz continued vividly. "Hey, thanks by the way, for yesterday. A really busy day, huh? I still can't believe he bailed on me; he was our top chef."

 _No problem._

"So…wanna go out today? I hear there's a really cool festival down at the mall. You know, New Years and all that."

 _Do you want to go?_

"Well…Milly said she's gonna be there, so…" Rivalz grimaced at the heat that decorated his face, and though he never looked at Naoko, he could tell the guy was laughing just by how badly his shoulders were shaking. "It's…it's not funny."

 _Yeah it is. You like her, don't you?_

"I do, but it's not like I can do anything."

 _So it's okay if I confess, right?_

Rivalz froze then, the shock radiating from his frame. It was only until the guy started laughing did Rivalz shove him away. "Don't do that!"

 _Seriously though…_

In all honesty, Rivalz was a bit surprised at how carefree Naoko was. When Kallen first introduced him, memories of his best friend kept popping in his mind, both good and bad. Though he was reluctant to take the boy in, through Kallen he pushed aside his hesitation, and invited Naoko inside. As per requested by the former terrorist, he kept Naoko close, allowing him to stay in the restaurant's kitchen while he worked. Relations were a bit frosty between the two boys, and though Naoko never seemed to be bothered with it, in the end it was Rivalz who kept himself distant. Whenever he was around the guy he had to be careful not to say "Lelouch" or "Lulu" in front of the customers, else his employees would become more suspicious than they already were.

But, as the days passed, Rivalz found himself drawn to the stranger's difference, his down-to-earth personality, as opposed to Lelouch's own haughty demeanor. He was like a little kid at times, wandering aimlessly from street to street, never bothering with the fact that people kept staring at him. Moreover, he was relaxed, carefree, and oftentimes would make fun of Rivalz for his unrequited crush on Milly, the celebrity who has now claimed the hearts of millions worldwide. They could converse easily, and it's gotten to the point where Rivalz could make out Naoko's silent communication methods (most of the time, anyways). He was also a good cook, so much so Rivalz kept him in the kitchen for hours on end, making the meals while he helped out the receptionist.

A vital asset…really.

There was a sudden knock on the door. Rivalz stood up, confusion embedded in his features. "We'll finish this later," he hissed jokingly, as he walked toward the door. "She's mine I tell you."

Naoko scoffed.

"You'll see," he grumbled, as he placed his hand on the doorknob. "I've known her the longest, after all."

 _Keep telling yourself that._

"I'm serious!" he answered. "It's not like anyone could just snatch her way. The guy's gotta be top class. He's gotta be smooth and charismatic. Even if she ends up falling for someone else, I've got approve him first."

 _Open the door already._

"Shows what you know," Rivalz muttered, as he swung open the door.

He stood there for a few moments, before shutting it, and twisting toward Naoko, the horror so very evident in his eyes. He opened his mouth, only to find his roommate chuckling behind his hand.

"Rivalz!" Milly screamed angrily. "What the _heck_ was that for?! Open up!"


	33. 33 Memory

"Say hi to your folks for me!"

"Y-yeah," Gino said hesitantly, as he opened the glass door and slipped outside aimlessly, the bright wintry sun already reducing the boy's once lively friendliness into a slow, depriving corpse. The heartbreak was still so very evident in his features, and from what the waiter could tell, Gino will probably suffer from another sleepless night, what with the way he's been acting.

Tamaki sighed, as he resumed cleaning the sullied cup that was found not too long ago. His fingers easily slipped through the round edges, expertly scrubbing out whatever alcoholic remnants was left on the glass. Meanwhile, his mind kept going back the blonde who just sauntered out of the bar, his sad expression tugging at Tamaki's heartstrings.

Man, that must be harsh. Finding out the girl you like is probably in love with someone else. Though she didn't have a wedding ring yet, Kallen and the guy in question were practically living together now, an aspect of their relationship the guy can't stand. What makes the situation even _more_ awkward was the fact they might actually be _sleeping_ together, making babies, doing all kinds of horny crap the girl could think of. Tamaki knew Kallen's mother, who was, in his opinion, a pretty strict woman, so if the little bastard managed to get _that_ far, then it looked like Gino's already lost.

No, the guy didn't come here to make any allies, or to get Tamaki to try and convince Kallen to break up with the poser. If anything, he admired the twerp for putting the moves on the girl, even though she was _his_ girl. Gino just needed someone to listen to him, that's all. Though it was depressing, since the blonde ignored all the advice Tamaki gave him, including the flowers and the diamonds and a little serenade about how much he loved her. Well, he did ask her out on that one little date…while the guy was standing next to her.

Either he was just considerate, or really stupid, Tamaki couldn't tell anymore. Then again, what'd he know? He wasn't as young as he used to be, and as hard as it may be to admit, he wasn't that popular with the girls either. The only time he could actually talk with one was if he got drunk and started sexually harassing them, something that, strangely, they found enjoyable. If a girl like Kallen ever showed up at his doorstep, it's _not_ because they want to get laid.

More importantly, there was another matter he had to attend to, and it took form of a guy sitting in the corner of the bar.

His back was hunched over, with an incredibly focused aura surrounding him so readily. He had dark brown hair that messily stood out everywhere, and he wore a green sweater with long sleeves that covered his hands. His hands were folded neatly on the table, and from the way he was sitting, it made the bartender think of some royal guy just waiting on his servants to come pick him up. However, an air of humility radiated from his frame, nothing at all like the spoiled rich kids that frequently demanded for their daily shots, however screwed they were getting. He was just sitting there, staring out the window, like he could watch the whole world pass by him without the slightest expression on his face. The guy didn't even seem lonely, though of course, his back was facing Tamaki.

Now, normally the waiter wouldn't have been bothered by such a figure. In fact, bars needed a little stability now and then, that special "only sane man" type that would help drive their drunk friends home and try not to get them into yet another fight. However, considering the aspect that the guy had been there _all day_ without ordering _anything,_ as well as the little creeper atmosphere surrounding him, Tamaki was anything but welcome. With a person like that, he might just wind up scaring the customers away. He frowned, and leaned over the counter. Didn't look like he was causing any trouble. Tamaki could even make out the menu sitting in front of the boy.

Menu?

He narrowed his eyes. Taking a pen and notepad from his apron, he walked over to the boy. "Hey," he said. "We're closed."

The boy, it seems, never heard him.

"Hey!" he shouted, grabbing hold of his shoulders and turning him around. "I said we're-!"

The first thing Tamaki noticed was a pair of golden eyes staring back at him.

Along with a familiar face the bartender would rather not see.

The boy was staring up at him nervously, all the while peering around, endeavoring to, as if, clear up some misunderstanding. Tamaki slowly lifted his hand away from his shoulder, the silent tension that was already building in the air. He tried opening his mouth, but nothing came out.

And before he knew it, he jumped back from the boy alarmingly, trying to make sense of the bittersweet ghost sitting before him.

* * *

Naoko just sat there, staring up at the redhead while holding the menu in his hands. Confusion wrapped its own claws around his features, his eyes scrutinizing the man's sudden change of behavior. His lips parted slightly, only for the already frightened man to grow even more terrified. At that point, he was afraid to do anything more, else the waiter would pass out, making the scene more dramatic than it should be (?). He blinked, then looked down.

Kallen told him to wait for her here until her classes were finished. Since he didn't have any plans that didn't involve him getting lost, there was nothing else for him to do, nothing at all that was even remotely exciting. He couldn't just go back to the apartment, nor could he wander around like he used to, since the neighbors kept loitering around their apartment rooms (Kallen's stalkers, he imagined). She even gave him her schedule in case something went wrong, as well as the large, bulky phone that was sitting a few feet away from him.

But that's funny. Kallen said the bistro was open all day today. Sure, there weren't any customers, but that didn't mean the place was going out of business. And there were a lot of really good food options just sitting here, the pastries jumping out at him, waiting to be devoured. The items weren't as expensive as he thought they'd be, and they were all appetizing, the strawberry shortcake in particular.

He looked up, and read the man's name badge, before smiling. Tamaki, right? Ms. Kozuki talked about him whenever that Zero guy came on screen. Tamaki used to be in the Black Knights with Kallen, and he doubled as the group's leading drunkard. From what Naoko could understand, the man was a friendly enough person, and from the way he held himself, Naoko relaxed. Perhaps there won't be any misunderstandings today after all. So he pointed to his throat and opened his mouth.

Tamaki, however, didn't get his message. "Look," he finally muttered. "Place is closed. Come back some other time."

Naoko shook his head, a slight frown tugging at his lips. Again, he relayed the same gesture, before giving up completely on the fifth time. He turned back, unwilling to look at Tamaki's still curious face, and pointed to an item on the menu. The man leaned over and squinted. "You…you wanna shortcake?"

Pleased, the boy nodded.

Tamaki folded his arms. "Okay, you're a nice kid. I get it, alright? But we aren't open right now. Come back later."

He cocked his head, and tried again, this time mouthing his words. _Kallen said you'd be open-_

"Dude, I'm serious. Come back _later._ "

 _That's not what I meant-_

"I can throw you out of here. You know that right?" he growled menacingly.

Naoko instantly held up both hands in front of his chest, the alarm ringing from his ears. _That's not what I meant either-_

"Dude! GET. OUT."

"Tamaki!"

Naoko pouted, and turned away, his attention sliding over to the glass door that was closing shut. A dark-skinned woman stood just a few feet away from it. Silver hair fell from her shoulders, and her bangs were parted to the left, with a long, stray strand off to the side barely touching her cheek. Olive eyes met golden ones, her purple lips almost quaking in what seemed to be fear. She wore a black coat over her body, and on her feet she had on high heels that looked incredibly painful, however fashionable they were now.

In her arms there was a certain, purple cat who purred when its feline gaze came across Naoko. Before long, Arthur leapt away from the woman and rubbed his fur against Naoko's leg, purring happily near the boy's warmth. He took his eyes off the familiar woman for a second, bending down to scratch the cat's ear.

"Ah…" the woman started, surprise decorating her face. Her head turned slightly toward Tamaki's, before giving the owner a somewhat odd smile. "Tamaki…you never told me about your friend…"

"He's not," Tamaki spat. "He just came in here! Kid, you really need to leave now. Don't you have school or work or something?"

By then, Naoko had Arthur nestled in his lap, the cat's tail dangling peacefully, swinging from one side to the other. The fur ball meowed softly, before pulling himself into an even tighter ball, oblivious to the irony. The woman stopped mid sentence, as if wondering what to do with a situation the boy was clueless about.

Slowly, she began walking towards Naoko, who regarded her with the same, cautious stare. There was something off about her, something he knew he should know about this strange woman, but even as he continued his mental probing, he couldn't help but notice the warmer atmosphere she had around her, a familiar understanding in which he found himself easing into.

She's different somehow. In a good way.

She kneeled down and scrutinized the cat. "I've never seen him like this. Usually, he's always running away, or getting himself into trouble, or some other nonsense I can't really describe right now." She gave Naoko an uneasy smile. "Sorry about that."

He shook his head. _It's fine,_ he mouthed.

She stood, and placed her hand on her hips. She stared him for a bit, before her eyes widened, and a small, playful smirk etched across her face. "Have you two met before?"

He nodded pleasantly.

"Were you the one who helped him down from that tree?"

Again, he nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly.

Meanwhile, Tamaki kept shifting his eyes between the two. "Wait. You know this punk?"

The woman chuckled then. "I remember that day. My husband wouldn't stop talking about you when he came home. Our family really is grateful to you for bringing him back."

 _It's fine. I like cats._

The woman paused for a brief moment, much to the boy's disappointment. After a few moments of silence, she nodded understandably. "My name's Villetta. This here is Tamaki."

"So…you know him?"

"He's the one who helped Oghi with Arthur," she replied, as she set herself directly across from Naoko. "He's a good kid, from what Oghi says."

"Oghi's too innocent. Can't handle the real world," Tamaki said with a sigh.

Naoko blinked. Oghi? That guy from the park? He leaned over curiously, and stared at the woman named Villetta for a little. Though he couldn't comprehend the familiarity, it was off, seeing the stranger's expression like that, one devoid of aggressiveness and hostility. And then there was Tamaki, a man kept on rambling on and on about Oghi not being responsible enough to take care of his "own ass." It was a conversation Naoko couldn't help but be intrigued by.

He was happy they were both doing so well.

"Summer colds are a bit troublesome, aren't they?" Villetta suddenly asked.

He nodded again, releasing the stiffness his muscles apparently carried.

"So tell me Naoko," she said. "Are you waiting for someone?"

 _Yes._

* * *

How could he be so stupid?

Gino raced back into the Bistro, his left hand involuntarily groping the air as he tried imagining his favorite green duffle bag slung across his shoulders. His breaths grew shallower, and with every step he took, time kept outpacing him, never stopping for the blonde no matter how much he begged. He bit his lips, clenched his fists, and prayed that his things were still sitting there on the countertop. That stupid project still needed to be done, and he was already five minutes late…

Who knew college could be so _hard_?

Gino heaved one last, fragile puff of air before slamming the door open. Sweat cascaded down his forehead, and his normally calm, tranquil eyes now grew wide with worry. His head bobbed back and forth, and immediately his heart started murderously choking itself when the duffle bag was no longer there. He tore his attention away from the counter, and rushed to Tamaki, who was joking with Villetta and another person just sitting there. Ah! His bag!

Gino breathed a relieved sigh as he grabbed the waiter's shoulder, a grateful smile tugging his lips. "You, my friend," he whispered, "are a lifesaver."

It took a while, but Tamaki finally turned. "Oh yeah; you forgot something."

"Yeah, I figured. Coach Villetta! Never thought I'd see you again!"

The silver haired woman nodded calmly toward the Britannian, before turning back to her apparently lively conversation. Gino blinked, curiosity taking precedence over the previous chaos. "What? What's so funny? What're you two-?"

Naoko was sitting there, staring up at him, with a sleeping Arthur curled in his arms.

Gino straightened a little as he regarded the pair surprisingly. "Oh. You're here too, huh kid?"

Tamaki leaned against the wall, crossing his arm. "You two know each other?"

"Yeah, we ah…attend drop same school." he explained as he took Naoko's arm and hoisted him up, causing him to dropping Arthur in the process. "Hey, did you forget? We have a project due."

Naoko blinked, before shaking his head slowly. _No. Actually, I was-_

"You really are hilarious, you know that? Don't make me do all the work old man." He pulled Naoko in front of him and began to practically start shoving him away from the former Black Knights. He turned back to the confused adults, and waved jubilantly to them. "Bye guys. Be back in a bit!"

"Just a moment," Villetta said, as Arthur instantly crawled away from underneath the table. The feline began pawing at Naoko's leg, a soft purr escaping from his lips, as his imploring eyes kept on asking the boy where he was going, when he was coming back. Much to his relief, Villetta walked over and scooped the cat in her arms. "He really seems to like your friend Gino," she examined contently. "What's your name?"

Before Naoko could open his mouth, Gino chuckled then awkwardly. "Naoko," he answered involuntarily. "Naoko…Kozuki?"

"Weird," Tamaki said, as he instinctively crossed over to a very unnecessary conversation. "Does Kallen know the guy?"

"I don't know…listen, we've gotta go. Projects and all that…"

He pushed the reluctant boy out into the cold and forced him down the street without any further questions.

* * *

Kallen was doing her assignments, as she normally would, a cup of coffee resting near her, with a warm, wool blanket pulled up near her legs. Books were scattered all over the floor, and her lap top was resting on her legs. Naoko was busy reading the latest scraps of books she checked out from the library, his back leaning against the couch, his thumb impatiently folding the corners of the page as he tore through the words bit by bit. They were in the living room at that moment, waiting for her mother to come home when, all of a sudden, her cellphone began ringing.

She blinked, then grabbed the phone and checked the caller ID. Tamaki? Calmly, she placed the thing near her ear. "Hello?"

"Got a brother?"

"Huh?"

"Cousin? Long lost relative?"

"What're you-?"

"Your mom been stepping out?"

She threw the phone away and continued with her work.


	34. Chapter 34

Naoko gripped the cup awkwardly in his palms as he sat between the two former classmates, unwilling to look anywhere else besides the empty space so conveniently set up near him. His mirth had finally run dry, replaced by a more solemn note as he kept on with his nothingness. Once in a while, he would stare up at Rivalz, who was busy going back and forth between gazing lovingly at Milly Ashford, and glaring daggers at Naoko for being so selfish, so idiotic. The crush in question, on the other hand, didn't look either of them in the eye, and rather looked incredibly uncomfortable by the display.

Naoko's seen her photo on Kallen's wall before, as well as on every major international network he manages to catch wind of. She has more political influence than the Prime Minister himself, and from the way she conducted herself, from her vibrant maturity to her selfless, childlike mindset, it looks like she'll be able to attract many more fans. She was, after all, pretty, possessing that wide eyed, innocent nature every guy wanted in a girl, and from what he could tell, and she seemed nice enough. Though there was an aristocratic feel to her, she was normal, down-to-earth, something that rarely, if ever, occurred in real life. Dark, wavy blond hair was cropped to her shoulders, and a silent, archaic blue entrenched her pupils, making her seem older than she really was, giving her a sagacious appearance that made the people around her feel comfortable. Personally, Naoko enjoyed being around her, though she never actually spoke to him.

He peered at Rivalz then; it never really crossed his mind to apologize to the poor restaurant owner. Somehow, Naoko managed to convince one of the waitresses to make the phone call. Since the girl had _some_ idea of who Milly Ashford was, she was happy to make the call, albeit a bit skeptical for Naoko's motives.

Still, the prank might've been a bit too far, since the two of them were just sitting there, mesmerized by some inevitable doom that will come barreling down upon them at any moment, like flying meteors or a hazardous fry. By the time he got the blue-haired boy's attention, Naoko was greeted with a scowl. "What?" he whispered furiously.

 _Make a move._

"This has nothing to do with you!"

 _She's just sitting there._

"Back off!"

 _I don't understand why you're so upset._

"Screw you!"

Naoko felt Mill's eyes peculiarly staring at the two, and from the corner of his gaze he saw her head tilt a bit. A slight disarray of confusion was embedded in her delicate frame, and before long, she leaned forward. "Rivalz…?"

"So Milly!" he stated over-excitedly, causing both he and Naoko to wince. "What brings you here?"

"Well, one of your employees said there was something going on. Business problems…?"

"Nope! No trouble here!" The idiot started laughing then, increasing the already magnificent tension building up in the crowded area. His feet kept tapping nervously, and though he kept glaring at Naoko, for some reason the hard, murderous light started softening. Perhaps this might work after all. "It's…probably just some prank. Kids and all."

"Oh." The celebrity nodded thoughtfully, sneaking a glance at Naoko while wearing a suddenly accusatory expression on her face. Though it was momentary, he was surprised by the change in her demeanor. He started shaking his head then, but it seems she never caught it. "So…" she began with an annoyed grin. "Who's your friend?"

Rivalz turned to Naoko nervously. "This is…my new roommate. Kallen said he needed a place to stay, so I figured I'd take him in."

Her shoulders eased almost immediately. "Huh. How is Kallen by the way? Did Gino put the moves on her yet?"

He laughed. "Yeah. They actually had a date in my restaurant. Didn't turn out so well though. It's like they're meant for each other, but at the same time, they're not…"

Naoko bit his lip. He did think they were cute together, but it's always Kallen's attitude that ruins the mood; either that or Gino's apparent idiocy which, somehow, angers Kallen, which…also ruins the mood. It was easy enough to see why they were so fit to be together, balancing each other out in the most likable of ways, but at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if it was healthy. Obviously Gino suffered from more trauma than needed, and that made things all the more difficult to understand. Sometimes, he wished he could ask the suitor if he was that much of a masochist, though it was probably pointless now.

As the conversation wore on, Naoko simply sat there, enjoying the seemingly simplistic jokes passed down from one person to the next, all the while digging through the hidden, friendly meanings, all of which were entwined with a sophisticated humor only they could understand. He'd never seen Rivalz so carefree, so comfortable with anyone before, aside from Kallen. The scene was, in itself, pretty warm, so much so he didn't think anyone wanted to leave, a burning hearth amidst the cold, winter storms. He started to wonder about that orange haired girl, and the girl with the glasses. The brown haired boy seemed pretty amiable too, as did Gino.

An hour later, Milly stands. "Sorry," she said softly. "But I've got to get going."

"Oh?" Rivalz said then, hoping to continue on the exchange. "Another career booster?"

"I guess," she sighed. "It's days like this I wish I could go back to being a reporter."

"You can still do that you know."

"It's not that easy. Anyways," she continues, grabbing her purse and spinning away. "I'd better get going."

Before he knew it, Naoko stood up and grabbed her wrist.

The blonde jolted at the sudden touch, and turned around then, her eyes wide with shock. "W-wha-?"

Immediately, Naoko dropped her wrist, and took a step back, mouthing _Sorry_ over and over again, hoping she would get the message. Why he would do that, he didn't know. Though Rivalz might not have wanted her to leave, and he himself was having a pretty good time, she still had plenty of other things she had to take care of. It's not like she could just drop everything to spend the day with him. And besides, it's not like he had any right to involve himself with their relationship. Hesitantly, he turned slowly, trying to see if Rivalz was as shocked as he was.

He wasn't there.

"Yeah, he's right!"

Naoko spun back around, finding Rivalz standing beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on Milly's arm. "You've gotta take a few days off Prez," he said cheerfully. "I mean, it's not every day we get to see each other like this."

For a few minutes, Milly stared at him, and only him. Familiar memories appeared to rush back to her. At last, she smiled genuinely. "Right. _Just one day,_ okay?"

"You hear that Naoko?" he asked suddenly.

"Naoko?"

"Yeah." He frowned. "That _is_ his name, right?"

Naoko blinked. Then slowly, he nodded.

Milly touched her throat for a split moment. "So…you're Naoko, huh? Sorry. You um…you just reminded me of someone."

The irritation stabbed his gut menacingly, but he brushed it aside in favor of the lighter mood. "He got his throat taken out," Rivalz explained. "So he can't really talk. But he's an open book, so I think you'll figure him out."

"I've never met someone like that," Milly mused, before suddenly leaning in with a wide grin on her face. "Hey, Naoko! What's it like? Do you just write stuff down on a piece of paper? Or do you pull some weird, charade type gesture?"

He shook his head, confused by her utter lack of private space. _No, I-_

"Wait. So you just do stuff with your head? What happens if you need to complain about something? Hey Rivalz! What happens if he complains about stuff? Does he throw something? Bite someone's face off?"

Naoko frantically started shoving the two away when the familiar, strange stares bore his back. Even so the star still wouldn't quiet down, her spontaneous outbursts causing him to wince every time they're said aloud. With each little word, she grew more and more embarrassing, until finally, when they were out of the restaurant, she quieted down. An age old annoyance started pricking at his chest, with a hint of regret mixed into the emotions. Maybe it was best if he didn't come along.

All the while the reporter kept laughing on and on, before dragging the two boys out for her exciting day off.

* * *

Morgan sat along the banks of the river, carefully sketching out the bloody intestines underneath the surface of the glistening fluids. Crimson flowed from the maddening streams, decorating the umbra edges with hot, white bridges of bone and skeleton. Skulls littered the surrounding, verdant fields, with forgotten arms lying hidden beneath a sea of moss and dead leaves. The grey clouds swarmed over the makeshift graves, seeking out the newest war prisoners that've already made peace with the ghosts, and in light of the brutal agony, the wind began blowing, the graceless air howling away the harmless sirens, turning the once warm, kind hearths to ash. And when the curse died down, when that sinful darkness spread its silhouette away from the once happy scene, she sat there still, drawing away on her sketch pad.

The witch was resting on a hill, the few twisted oaks never once getting in her way of creating the morbid outcome. Her long, black dress nestled to her legs, the strands of her hair blowing wildly behind her back. Lilac eyes regarded the village down below evenly, the smell of alcohol tainting the refreshing, lighthearted day. The foreboding bloodlust which came from the fairies marching onward beget her outlines, as she poured every emotion into her work with no hesitation at all. She sought for her safe haven in those lines, sought for the compassion to which she thought she'd left behind, only to fail each and every time. And so there she was, seated far off to the distance, watching as, one by one, the royals swept in, and destroyed the militias.

Piercing, agonizing cries decorated the air, the wind's wild decorum beginning to pick up once again. Small, hopeless lullabies twisted her ears, parents burning away at the seams. Mothers, whose children were ripped helplessly from their arms, pounded, cursed, begged, did whatever grotesque thing in front of the merciless soldiers, if only to see their babies once again. Fathers were dying left from right, lovers joining beloveds to the end of time, embraced both by Death's cold hands and hell's lustful call. Friends betrayed friends for a tiny taste of hope, however worthless it was, living to dead, their corpses little more than playthings for those perverted monstrosities. Delusions began to take over, their minds never once delving into that happy end from which she thought she could grasp.

As her pencil kept twisting, turning, to the cruelties of her own, weak heart, she heard the stray commands of a heathen some time after. Kill everyone, they said. No survivors. Bury the living, slay the innocent, burn the guiltless at the stakes. Send judgement down to the reigns of this day, and revive those sick, mindless illusions that only human nature could manifest. A symphony, not for the devil, not even for the demons, but rather, for the hearts who were ripped away by the antagonizing pleasure. An orchestra, built for the despairing dead, the lost souls who will never see their once happy eternities again, forever eluding their fingertips like a sweet, sorrowful tune, one only a bloodstained child would sing.

Left, then right. Time after time, she strokes his movements, her eyes feral and domesticated, her thoughts ravaged and civilized, until finally, one by one, they all die.

The artwork was exactly how Arthur wanted it to be.

She took a deep, final sigh, and looked down at the village. She could see crimson running through the streets, plants desperately soaking up their masters' blood if only for nourishment. So even the dying earth was beginning to fall to slumber, was it? Perhaps if it did, peace would return, those happy times still embedded in its mind like a crumbling garden over the edge of oblivion. She could smell them, smell the funeral fires for which that decadence began blossoming, enriched by solitude and loneliness alike, until finally, _finally,_ did it cease on living. A rust color…that was all that's left now. A color mixed from dried blood, and stainless tears, and dying hearts, and dying breaths. They were all one with that vastly fading world, reality breaking down with each swing the pendulum takes.

Morgan couldn't help but close her eyes then. She wanted to dream again. She wanted to remain in that ballroom forever. She wanted to keep sleeping as she always did, to forsake a ruinous life where the they all had to die, criminal, bystander, victim, jury; she wanted it all. The painful wish was so strong it wrapped around the already suffocating chains of her heart, bending the poor thing to its will, a slow, familiar crack resounding from the back of her head. Perhaps the only thing that woke her from such a nightmare was when she was called back to this realm, her eyes suddenly returning to that very moment. She jolted awake, and gazed down at the burning village.

A scream.

That was a scream just now.

It was Lisette's mother, wasn't it?

* * *

Euphemia traced her foot across the ruins, the pattern slowly enveloping her attention, her eyes having little time for anything else aside from the building resentment within her core. The soft dirt slunk away from her weight, with the remnants of mud latching onto her heel, the cool feel rubbing against the tiny, sharp rocks of the archaic edifice. A few yards away from her was the black Knightmare, who watched her go on with her mundane activity. If she looked at the machine at just the right angle, she could see a somewhat irritated expression on its face, as it attempted to decipher the weird movements behind its mistress's glorious insanity. She scowled at it, before returning to her seething mood, afraid to admit that the inanimate object was right.

Both arms on her hips, she narrowed her eyes and examined the ruins a bit longer. The Unseelie Courts were still there still, lingering in her mind. Over and over she replayed Lorraine's vision from her mind, the depressing sights very much frightening. She thought of Nathaniel's misery, of his sickened heart, of her burning kingdom, of Lelouch. Yet nothing ever came of it. Though at times she could feel the familiar magic seep through her veins, that same, dreadful barrier would always block her, allowing no one to pass, save for anyone with an empathetic heart for the King of Fools.

She kicked away the dust then, and angrily screamed at the skies, relinquishing whatever control she had left on that afternoon.

And, of course, by the time she was done, she simply collapsed to the ground, the weariness overcoming her so easily. She sat there, panting heavily while staring at the circle. No matter what she did, what charm she used, or how many drops of blood she had to pour down on this stupid thing, it still refused to listen. Only hate bound her to Arthur, and though C.C was a good friend of hers, it was frustrating how the witch refused to answer her orders. She couldn't single out to Lelouch either, and though it seems he was no longer in the Courts, which, originally, was supposed to be a good thing, in the end she had no anchor to pull her through.

Memories really are a troublesome thing.

She sighed frustratedly. Suzaku was busy testing the new Knightmare frames in India, the Lancelot in tow, leaving her to keep an eye on both Kamine Island, as well as the Stonehenge. Nunnally, meanwhile, was going to make an appearance soon in the Middle Eastern Federation with Ella, most likely to secure troops in Cairo, as well as surround the Sahara with sustainable living supplies for the impoverished there. Though she kept scanning the newly acquired trade routes for any signs of Alfheimr, as well as past political alliances that could easily lead to the terrorist organization, in the end it was all for naught. Although she had resources and wealth, Euphemia knew she lacked the influence to do anything, much less search for the wayward fools.

She took a deep breath, and stood up again. There was no use wasting time here. She needed to find out the extent of Arthur's horrendous reign, how many casualties her little blunder resulted, how many weak points were exposed. But she always knew how cunningly unstable his monarchy is. Her own mistakes put him in that position, and it was those very same mistakes that costed her a precious sibling.

She clenched her fist. But without an anchor…

She suddenly doubled over. Her brain beat against her skull, thrashing the delicate membranes, trying to look for a way out. Her headache pierced through her vision, the throbbing pain rendering her breathless, as she gasped desperately. Her heart was ripping itself apart, tearing into two with the chambers exposed, while her veins started to constrict, cutting off the blood flow inch by inch. With every breath she tried taking, her arteries began bursting, her lungs being drowned so deeply by the crimson she tried to manipulate.

She was on her knees then, coughing up bits of throat, the blood slowly seeping from her cracked lips. Her eyes were wide with confusion, with fear. Slowly, she felt the magic run through its poisonous course, before at last, disappearing altogether. She felt like a corpse suddenly come disintegrating within hell's scorching flames, a soul shattered to pieces with one noose, for which now the disgusting ornament hung. She recognized the sensation all too well; Arthur.

And as quickly as that plague came, it vanished.

Euphemia blinked, the incredibly uncomfortable feeling of having her throat grow back not once mentioned in her mind. Blood soon dried, and within the second, disappeared before her eyes. her circulatory system began reconstructing itself, the veins slowly reattaching together, the pain dying away. She stood, amazement entwined so thoroughly in her features.

That should've killed someone.

With a blinding flash, she saw everything. She saw her beloved castle, looming over the cliffs in its solemn, Gothic manner. She saw the forests where the creatures once sheltered their loved ones, with the entertaining fights breaking out every now and then. She saw the villages and everyone surrounding them, the kingdoms that helped govern the Courts so wonderfully, so efficiently. She saw the little schools and taverns, the shops and marketplaces, once bustling and vibrant, as well as the clock that would ring every hour, along with the bells which tolled only for naughty kids who stayed up past their bedtime.

And it all vanished.

She sat there, mesmerized by the events, the growing panic coursing through her veins. At that moment, the adrenaline came rushing back, and no sooner did she leave the island did her mind keep replaying the scenes she watched, scenes of her beautiful home now tarnished and pathetic.

Someone had just crossed over.


	35. Chapter 35

Lisette leaned against the cold, stone wall, looking out at the celestial starlight surrounding the Seelie Courts, their untainted sanctity bearing little burdens in the midst of their thoughts. Tiny lilies blew within the harsh winter wind, with most of their unborn buds left to die amidst the frostbite. Though the grass retained its somewhat pathetic warmth, and the trees barely managed to stave off the barren notion to which its seedlings fell, lying abandoned in the cold, hardened ice, there was still a deadness in the air, a void not even childish stories could fill, the callous, empty dreams lingering from beyond the veil. She knew of the mourners who stared from afar, knew of the helpless who were vigilantly attempting to take back what was rightfully theirs, though their futile efforts would result in little more than a crimson sea of tears and sneers. Soon even these gardens will be desecrated by royalty.

Soaring arches kept rising high above the once holy church, their meager humiliation a display of the ostentatious vanity of the aristocrats she so reluctantly protected. Empty glasses of wine were scattered around the podiums, the glass stained windows muddled with cracks and saliva, a testament to the forced intercourses which were about to take place inside. Puddles of alcohol and urine seamlessly flooded the once warm pews, and even from here, she could tell where the feces were happily settled, the stench itself proving more than unbearable. She heard a familiar crack from behind her, one of the windows shattered by a laughing hyena with a crying maiden in his arms, who was struggling quite bitterly. The sickly warmth entrenched her back, and time after time she felt the lords' perverted, beady eyes gaze lustfully at her frame. Prideful laughter seeped through the night, and in that one hour, she finally saw it, the processions underneath the dying moon.

Though their demonic silhouettes covered the beautiful chapel, perhaps the only thing that was spared was the Rosette window, draped off to the side of the building. The crystal, blue shades were evident through every surface, every petal that was shaped carefully in the domain of skylight, chained neither by blood nor alcohol nor sins, but rather by a dutiful that even the deaf would hear. A tiny flower held to the center, the lonely, lying light of the monstrous night giving into its holiness, with a colorful single, burning stroke of lavender and pink, and shades of dark blue captured the frightful sensation of some, isolated fairytale far off into the wood. Surrounding the center were more petals, all neatly lined around the bend of their smaller, more fragile counterparts, all carrying a depiction of the saints, housing the images lovingly within their colorful curtains. Small circles ended each petal, casting a golden, melancholic light around the seemingly self-sufficient flower, only to weaken it by a nostalgic time, in which the realms had yet been soiled by humans and fairies alike.

Still, the lesson remained untouched, and many of the lords wanted the thing gone, disgusted by how frivolous an insignificant it seemed. No one had gone to the church in decades, centuries even, and the only purpose it served, they argued, was to hide those stubborn vagabonds that somehow managed to avoid their amateur eyes. The rebellious priests who took them into, interestingly enough, their own homes were aiding them against the kingdom without as much as a hesitation. That blasphemy alone was enough to destroy the eyesore of a sanctuary. For some reason, however, his Majesty chose to ignore their pleas, and allowed the church to remain where it was, in the middle of a torturous, nightmarish island, a "tainted light in place for judgement," he described it.

She folded her arms over her chest and closed her eyes, white hair cascading down her hip, her elegant uniform clashing with her armor. The silver gleams a cruel, feigned design against the decaying morals lying before her, listening on to the war waging from the inside. She never did enjoy guarding the aristocracy, nor did she want to curry their favor, but she did't want to fight against them either. As vulnerable and pitiful as they were, they still had thousands of men at their side, men with nary a beating heart or simple kindness, men who would do anything to see the horrors of the battlefield once more. A particular example was Neit's army, who was constantly being equipped with the more advanced Knightmares. Though Lisette was a skilled pilot in her own right, she couldn't imagine taking on the entire pack, who would most likely devour her before she could even move. Besides, no one would ever dream of disobeying Arthur, no matter how merciless the king was.

She heard rustling from behind, lighthearted footsteps that contrasted to the perverted, overbearing ones taking place within the church. Then she heard a cry, one laden with sorrows and distress, vengeful and enraged, the sound trying to squirm its way out of a man's throat. Alarmed, her bright pupils search the darkness, before turning around and stepping into the church.

The nobles have all ceased their sins, surprise etched into their faces as they stared at the center of the aisle. They threw away their partners, and moved slowly away from him, their eyes wide with desperate feet shifted against the wastes, against the alcohol, as they endeavored to resume their regal positions, however impossible that was, while regarding the threat standing before them, the cruel light sparking within their emotionless pupils.

Lisette blinked, then looked to the threat. He was little more than a weakling in her eyes.

There was a man standing there, clutching a knife against his oversized rags. Dark, rusted hair hung from his skull, his dirt-ridden face emphasizing his impoverished state. He was thin, and from a distance even Lisette could see his ribs poking out from his skin. He was swaying unsteadily, though his murderous focus was still very clearly seen, directed toward the Viceroy of this area. How he managed to get past her was no surprise; there was an underground tunnel built within the church, the maze leading up to one of the offices residing on the second floor. Though it was a smart move, from the outside she could sense no one else accompanying the poor creature. He came here alone.

Yet he wasn't deterred by the lack of comrades, wasn't bothered by the fact that, already, Lisette was moving herself in front of the young, arrogant lord, who was smirking haughtily at the commoner. Rather, there was an eerie calm hidden beneath his features, a characteristic she neither hoped nor was able to understand. So she when she came directly toward the Viceroy, she remained where she was, looking down with that same, charismatic expression.

That all shattered when his personality contorted.

"Give her back," he muttered hatefully, the knife in his hand trembling with angered pain and loss.

The lord chuckled, brushing aside his clean shaven, blond hair, while sporting a double chin over his disturbing, large potbelly. He puffed out his chest and licked his lips. "And who-?"

"Give her back dammit," he repeated, taking a threatening step forward. "Where is she? _Where's my wife_?"

Her eyes widened. Wife?

The lord leaned against her. She could feel his sweat pouring against her back, as he arched her neck over. He strained, and could barely reach her ear. When he did, he whispered, "Take care of this."

Obediently, she straightened herself, and calmly stared the man down, arms to her side. The man, however, never noticed her, his eyes still focusing on the lord. "Where is she?!" he suddenly screamed. "What'd you do to her?!"

"I've no time for this," the lord said blatantly, returning to his exhausted victim, who by now was reaching out to Lisette. Tiny, incoherent whimpers escaped from the woman's lips, but Lisette carefully maneuvered her gaze away, already weary enough as is. She never took the woman's outstretched hand.

The man gritted his teeth. He started running. "Damn you!" he screeched. "Damn you! _Damn you all to fucking hell!"_

Lisette started to run toward the man as well, narrowly dodging his knife and taking hold of his wrist.

It seemed like it was the first time he ever saw the girl, but when his gaze began drifting away again, she took a deep breath, and dug her nails into his neck. She ripped out his throat, along with a few pieces of his vertebra, then watched when he crumpled to the floor, his heartbroken eyes still in place.

Even as his body lay there, she saw a tiny, ugly black thing entrenched to his chest, a branch of small veins sticking out from around it. She could see a hint of blood leaking from his chest, a tiny drop of saliva mixing in with the already pathetic pool. She dropped the throat and bones, careful not to get any on her dress.

It didn't matter. He didn't have much time left anyways.

* * *

Kallen smashed her way through the enemy pilots, swinging the slash harkens upwards, before letting the anchors collapse onto the Archangel, before lifting herself and unleashing the energy wings. She grunted then, as she thrusted the Knightmare toward the pilot before grabbing the head and tearing it off. Before the enemy could escape, she dug the claws through the abdomen, and slashed away whatever remnants were left of the computer. She stared at the wires for a split second, before destroying the system altogether, rendering the Knightmare useless and ineffective.

"That's enough Kallen," Rakshata said smoothly, a slight smirk embedded in her voice.

"My," Lloyd added, "what a very peculiar mess you've made down there."

Kallen looked down at the mechanic pilot, whom she shattered into a million pieces. "Where's Zero?"

"You're a very curious girl, aren't you?"

She sighed, as she opened the cockpit. Zero asked her to accompany him to India to test out the newest range of Knightmares both Lloyd and Rakshata built for the newbies. Though she was tasked with destroying every single model, Kallen couldn't help but wonder if this was just another way to pass the time, since Nunnally had yet to give any order for war. All the redhead knew was that negotiations with Alfheimr were going sour, and with TU to add to the current list of transgressions, it was only a matter of time before the Empress, along with the rest of the world, declared war on the terrorist organization. The media, however, wasn't getting much of anything from her or Zero, and even the politicians weren't saying much of anything.

She took the keys out and swung it around her neck, before turning toward the two scientists who were now coming toward her with their complicated, mad eyes. She stood, her pilot suit glistening along the excessive golden lights, to which she had to blink out the uncomfortable glare. She rubbed her eyes before regarding them again.

"The defenses need to be concentrated along the arms," Lloyd muttered. "I really do hate this system."

"Zero picked it up, remember?" Kallen called.

"Ooh, you're blaming this on him then?"

"Where's Ms. Cecile?" she asked politely, as she hopped down from the cockpit, avoiding the scientist's prying eyes.

"She's in Dallas right now," Rakshata answered, all the while examining her beloved, somewhat disfigured child. She knocked the leg with her tobacco pipe. "You're due for an upgrade."

Kallen blinked. "When will she be back?"

"Why?" Lloyd sneered, leaning toward her with that goofy looking expression, his light, cropped, lavender hair bouncing as it usually does. "We're not good enough? I'm a bit shocked, my little devicer. I didn't think you'd prefer her handiwork over mine."

"I was just curious," Kallen answered. She turned to the Indian woman then, strays of white strands sleeked over her otherwise perfect, blond hair. "Do you know when Zero's coming back?"

"No idea," she answered aimlessly. "If it's about that pilot you keep talking about-"

"It is."

Rakshata placed the tobacco pipe back on her lips, tiny puffs of smoke emerging from the golden rim. "I'm not finished with the analysis yet. But you don't need Zero's permission to see those tapes."

Kallen narrowed her eyes. "He was there, when the pilot attacked."

"The model was incredibly advanced," Lloyd interrupted. "With someone as skilled as that, it's no wonder you were beaten. The technology alone was enough to outweigh the Guren, even with all the tinkering we've done. Besides, the devicer inside might be just as skilled as Suzaku, if not more. After all," he swirled his happy gaze toward the pilot, "they did beat you to a pulp."

Kallen's shoulders tensed. If someone as good as that was on Alfheimr's side, things were already going from bad to worse. She took a deep breath. "What about the Guren's Druid system? Did you find anything abnormal there?"

Lloyd straightened then, his friendly expression replaced by a solemn frown. "I had Cecile look into that one. Neither Zero nor anyone else have access to it, and the only way you can do _that_ kind of damage is if you mess with it personally. Even then, the codes are too hard to decipher for just one person alone."

"A part of the system is also embedded into the Guren's frame," Rakshata continued. "In essence, unless someone else is actually piloting the Guren, or if you simply ran out of energy, you wouldn't have lost control over the Knightmare frame." Her cool, turquoise eyes slid toward Kallen. "You just can't accept it, can you?"

Honestly, Kallen couldn't. That night, when she found Naoko, Zero simply commanded the Guren to stop working. Was it Geass, she wondered? Did Zero somehow make her believe that the Guren stopped working? If that was the case, then why? What could he possibly be hiding? It'd been bothering her for some time, but with Naoko nearby, she couldn't ignore that crucial aspect anymore. The thought of another leader betraying the world scared her, but she just couldn't rule out the possibility.

But in the end, Kallen nodded. "I see. Thanks."

"Would you rather we keep _this_ from Zero?" the woman asked then.

"Please."

"That's not like you, you know, to start doubting your idol."

Kallen smiled. "I've got important things to worry about than an idol."

* * *

The two sat there on the floor for the longest time, the gossamer curtains surrounding their shades emptily. The dark skies up ahead never giving way to a single hint of joy he spent so much of his time investing in, but then again, he never noticed their envious gazes either. He was simply sitting there, in that same dreamscape, in the same clothes, in the same atmosphere, the same lullaby replaying itself over and over again. An age old gramophone continued with the melodies, the empty notes bouncing away from the walls, with little regard for the once majestic air from above.

He sat in front of her, her hand in his, as he relayed to her the realities which took place on the outside, realities he wished for her to be in. He talked about the events of the day, of the fun he had, the friends he's made, chatting aimlessly away at the silliness his companions indulged in, from a simple crush to an over enthusiastic, drunken girl with no idea how babies were made. He talked about winter, about laughter, about the futon Rivalz kept stashed away in the kitchen, in the event Milly or Kallen, or anyone else for that matter, came to visit. He talked about the restaurant he was apparently working at, the latest events Alfheimr made, the conferences the Britannian Empress and Zero attended together. He talked about Ms. Kozuki and Kallen, and how often they would call to make sure he was alright. He talked the changing attitudes around him, the outfights glares transforming to begrudging acceptances, a few more amiable faces popping out from the audience. He talked about the terrorist attack on TU, the Knightmares that eagerly danced within the mirrors of the battlefield as well as the woman named Lisette and the person she was looking for.

All of which she gave nothing.

She kept staring at him with those empty eyes of hers, the liveliness that once invoked their lovely musical gone. Her hands were neatly folded in her lap, but her body little more than a ragged doll, staring submissively at nothing in particular. She didn't smile, and never released her emotionless state; she never talked, never laughed at the foolishness he managed to get himself into, never teased him as she usually did so many nights before. Even when he tried urging her to play something, anything, his request fell cruelly between them.

Seconds pass by them effortlessly, playing into a subtle, quiet emptiness.

Though they lapsed into such a silence before, it wasn't at all as suffocating as this. But he bid his time, and waited for a little more. He leaned over, his head cocked a bit, as he tried to discern anything at all from her face, a sign that told him she was still there, still breathing, still alive and interested in the world around her. Yet there was none of that, and soon, in those happy, brilliant colors her own eyes gave off, he only saw his reflection, a dichromate gaze staring back at a monochromatic one.

Slowly, he lifted his hand, and stroked her cheek delicately, afraid she would break at one little touch. He stared at her for a little, a purple orb peking from behind his bangs. From behind, he heard the familiar cracks settling throughout the now chaotic night, the ballroom beginning to fold itself back into the darkness, as it had for forever.

The dream was already ending.


	36. Chapter 36

He drummed his fingers impatiently along the control panel, Horai Island underneath the view of his office. He faced away from the sea behind him, never taking in the dreamlike atmosphere for which the base was covered with. Humidity managed to seep through a tiny crack in the glass, the cold air lingering from inside his office. Once again, rosette claimed a bit of his hair, lavender eyes reaching out for the fairy's power as he continued on with his frustrations, the calm, tranquil scenery making his anger all the more obvious. The cold sunlight irritated his back, as if tearing down his already wounded pride, who knew full well the light was beginning to fade, and progress had yet to be made.

Suzaku bit his lip, carefully scanning the monitors for any change at all within the Chinese Federation. Though economic levels fluctuated from time to time, there seemed to be no record of the terrorist organization; in fact, the only thing he did manage to uncover was Empress Tianzi using a bit of the funds from Britannia to pay off the eunuchs' still mounting debts, placing some burden on her and the administration alike. Other than that were no traces of Alfheimr left in the world, none at all that provided even a slight hint for where their operations took place. True, it was a Court based system, but just sitting here, waiting for an attack won't do anyone any good. Aside from the Stonehenge and Kamine Island, there was no other point of entry that they could even consider.

So how did that one get through?

Euphie contacted him hours before he landed in India. The prospect that there was another gate was frustrating enough, but to think that Arthur was already getting an edge over them was more than either of them could handle. What with the trouble Alfheimr has already caused, it'd be a problem if Arthur could somehow open the barrier willingly. Euphie did set up protective charms of her own to prevent that, but even that was only a temporary solution. Lelouch wasn't making anything easier, since he seemingly persisted on remaining hidden.

Then there was Kallen, who, as of this point, was the only person that could have possibly hoped to see the former Zero to begin with.

He stopped.

He sat back in his seat, his fingers ceasing their incessant sound. Even considering the idea was risky, since the pilot was so popular, not only amongst the Black Knights, but in the UFN as well. Euphie reminded him time and time again how dangerous it was to pursue her, and, at times, had tried dissuading him from investigating further, pointing out the fact the pilot would never disobey Zero, at least not willingly. But he had no other option at this point.

He began typing furiously, his eyes watching the screen for the reports for all the Knightmares that accompanied him that night, when Alfheimr attacked the Chinese Federation. Kallen and Todoh were there, along with Nunnally's personal bodyguards, half of which consisted of the Zero Squad. Xing-ke was hovering over Tianzi as usual, and Kaguya stationed her own guards along Vermillion's outskirts. Oghi never brought anyone with him, trusting that the festival will go as planned without any unwanted interruptions.

His brain began sorting out the events that took place an hour later. Nunnally was shot. A man had them at gunpoint. He was asking about Euphie, the traitor to the Courts. Todoh and Kallen dispatched him, and Oghi escaped along with the others. Enemy Knightmares showed up after that. Suzaku was in the Lancelot, where managed to open up a crack in the barrier. He jumped in, and accidentally took Kallen with him. He was fighting. He shut down the Guren when she tried joining him.

There was a manor, from what he could remember.

Though he prevented Kallen from seeing the massacre, she might've gone into that manor to take cover, or to take out the leader, or whatever noble cause filled her head at the time. She could've stumbled across Lelouch then. She had a good heart, and seeing someone as helpless as that, someone who looked exactly like the man she once loved, was already a guarantee she would take him in.

Suzaku scrolled through the schedules then, detailing the times for which the Knightmares came in. Midnight, one, two, three, three-thirty…

The Guren didn't arrive until seven.

Even if he did take the attack into account, Kallen still had a two hour gap when she arrived in Tokyo. His mind went back to that little theory then, trying to delve further into the strange behavior. In this cruel, pathetic world he lived in, no one would want a Demon Emperor look-a-like in their own homes, nor would they want the copy anywhere near their businesses; that was already an invitation for trouble. However, Ms. Kozuki was a kind woman, so it'd be no problem if Lelouch came into her home, even more so since she probably had never seen the Demon Emperor before, aside from the newspapers celebrating the anniversary of his death. It'd be no surprise if he managed to find a refuge there. That would also explain why he was there in TU with Kallen that day.

But in order for Kallen to not arouse suspicion, she was going to have to take Lelouch with her while she was fighting. She'd be more careful then, faster, stronger, if only to get him to safety. Luzhin said that if Nunnally would give him to Alfheimr, they would cease the destruction altogether, meaning something must've already happened in the hostage crisis for things to have escalated that far. A few days later, she'd probably move him somewhere else, far enough away to avoid any suspicion, but close enough so she could contact him. She might've just called up Rivalz, or Milly, or even Shirley to take him in for the time being. Gino would do as well, though Nina might not welcome the idea as much.

Suzaku's hands gripped the edge of the desk, his eyes closed. Euphie can't do anything because Lelouch lost his memories. That soldier might already know where the stubborn friend was, and is going off to find him right then. Come on, where was he? Lelouch was practically staring at him in the face. He'd be an idiot if he missed it now.

Milly was too busy with her schedule to shelter the amnesiac code bearer. Though she was smart enough to keep secrets, Suzaku doubted she'd have the capacity to see her dead friend once again. Shirley still loved Lelouch, but the girl already had enough to deal with and Kallen might not want her involved. Gino fought the Demon Emperor before, and though he was amiable enough, she probably wasn't willing to take any risks. That left Rivalz, who always saw himself as Lelouch's best friend, his sidekick whenever they would go out gambling.

Suzaku felt the tension ease away from his muscles. His mind revolved around the former student council president for a while, but then went back to Kallen's household. What happened before the attack he wondered?

Lelouch cared about his family; even if he lost his memories he wouldn't change, as he demonstrated with Rolo. If Kallen kept him in her house, there was a good chance he would treat them as he would Nunnally. Ms. Kozuki was perhaps more of a mother than Marianne ever was, and if his nature allowed him, Lelouch would be fighting with Kallen every so often, like siblings would after a day or two of peace. He'd clash with Kallen because of her overprotective nature, and knowing Lelouch, he'd probably go out of his way to se the world he left behind, even if he couldn't remember any of it.

Yesterday, Kallen said her mother was out on a business trip, and that she'd be returning today. She was planning on calling a taxi for her, but there was a good possibility Lelouch might be there too.

The BigGlobe browser suddenly came on screen, his eyes searching through the countless number of terminals available in the Tokyo area. In the afternoon, Kallen had said.

An hour later, Suzaku stood, grabbed his mask, and made his way toward the door, a cautious smile pinned to his face.

* * *

"Thank you Jeanette," Nunnally said sweetly. "Make sure you get those files to Schniezel, alright?"

The maid bowed happily, before scurrying away from Nunnally's desk. She heard the girl's cheerful giggles from beyond the door, and even in the hallways, from which her light voice echoed from the arches.

The Empress stared at the door for a while, before returning to her work, her signature flourishing throughout the countless number of bills signed nearby. From the corner of her eyes, she stole a glance at her schedule; Ella was supposed to come in soon, to discuss the latest measures taken against Alfheimr.

From her sister's investigation, fortunately it turns out no country had been supporting the terrorist organization. But then again, despite her analysis of the country's profits, as well as the exhausting efforts researching the world's most wealthy individuals, it seems the enemy really did just pop up out of nowhere. Not only did they have their own Knightmares, they were well organized, and had a clear objective in ming. They won't hesitate destroying their own members if they turned to be liabilities, a concept Nunnally couldn't understand. Disobedience and insubordination will not be tolerated, all for that one little fool who managed to keep evading everyone's sight.

Lately, Alfheimr hasn't made a single move. Though she would question her maids from time to time, trying to pry whatever information she could about the organization, they knew little of their former masters, blocked from the affairs for which only soldiers had the right to know. Begrudgingly, she accepted their truth, her final source for obtaining information no longer viable, and the hopeful leads she carried evaporating before her eyes. Here Nunnally was, just biding her time, waiting for them to appear as she would her brother when she was still paralyzed. She would search the skies every night, wonder when they'd appear, wonder what they'd do, since they've already secured the resources necessary to demolish her, and the world along with it.

But she would also ponder on Mordred li Britannia, on the boy who looked just like her brother. His familiar face alone was enough to put her at ease, yet, at the same time, shatter the peace she'd been preserving for so long. Shame would weave its way into her heart, prodding her, asking her to track him down and get his opinion on the world's current state of affairs, if she'd done a good job staving off the world's inevitable, sinful lusts.

She'd shut her brain off after that, practically hearing the disgust in his voice.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another one of the maids, who slammed the door open, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

Nunnally jolted from her seat, and stared up alarmingly, her hand reaching for the pistol she kept in her drawer. "M-milady!" she managed to stutter.

Hurriedly, the Empress stood. "What is it?" she demanded.

The girl was breathing heavily, clutching her chest as she struggled to look her mistress in the eye. "There's…attack…"

Nunnally narrowed her eyes. "Speak up!" she ordered.

"There's been another attack!" she heaved. "Tokyo! International Airport! Princess Cornelia's fighting!"

* * *

Streams of light were strung through the air, tied by four large poles that gave the dancers their floors. Busy restaurants sporadically dotted the airport, with age old trees sprouting from the steel ground claiming a majority of green and red ribbons. Candles were situated on each table, the mistletoe fragrantly bestowing its beauty throughout the sky's bright, afternoon light. There were cups of hot chocolate off to the far left side of the waiting room, the children bounding around the table excitedly, their smiles alone enough to make their poor parents cave into any demand the young creatures so jubilantly squealed. Couples, both young and old, observed the carefree atmosphere gladly, their arms around one another, while whispering words of promise and hope toward the new year.

Naoko was sitting on a black chair, with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, counting the drifting sea of bodies aimlessly meshing with one another. He placed the cup toward the edge of his lips, the now cool liquid flooding his body as he observed the passengers passing through the gate, as well as friends and families who crowded along the marked off pathways. A slight air of anxiousness claimed the nervous onlookers, searching for their loved ones while holding up ostentatious signs, with presents frantically waving through the air. Hours later, however, their efforts would pay off, the restless actions worth the hours of pathetic humiliation. Good for them.

Ms. Kozuki was off on another business trip in Hiroshima. From what he could understand, she was working out another business deal with a company in the UK. If she got the plan approved, the Japanese branch here will have a foothold in the EU, and thus benefit from England's blossoming economy. They were paying for her accommodations apparently, and gave her a free stipend for each day she spent there. It was a good career move, in his opinion, even if she had to travel a bit more.

However, since Kallen was with the Black Knights, and Rivalz couldn't just take a day off from his business during the holidays, Naoko decided to pick her up instead. He hadn't told Rivalz about the little plan, but since he saved the money he received from his own tips, he managed to get a taxi to drop him off here. He had enough money to get back hopefully.

He breathed in deeply, before standing and walking toward the gates once more, looking around for the mother. It'd been a while since he last saw her. He wondered if she'd be mad to see him for coming this far, even though Alfheimr was still at large. Well, it's not like she'd tell Kallen about it; the aspect of getting hounded by the pilot again wasn't a very appealing outcome.

He turned to the clock; she's supposed to be here at around one, right? Maybe her flight was running a bit late.

He started to turn back when he noticed a young woman standing there, staring at him. Her olive eyes were wide with surprise, her orange hair hidden from behind her back, the strands peaking out from behind her peach coat. She had a cart near her, with two big brown bags strapped to it. There was a large, black suitcase off toward the side, her white gloves a testament to the contrast. It wasn't long before he managed a smile. That's right; she was another one of Kallen's friends, wasn't she? From the photos.

"Lulu?" she asked in a tiny voice.

The conversation ended when he heard gunshots from behind him. When he turned back, black bullet holes gazed back at him, entrenched in the very same crowds who stood by him just a few minutes ago.


	37. Chapter 37

The first thing he saw were the Knightmares.

Suzaku hurried through the corridors, the black shades barely managing to cover his now deep purple eyes. He pried his way through the crowd, all the while endeavoring to take control of his senses, figuring out what was going on without resorting to the same mayhem his environment suffered from. His skin, shades lighter than what it normally was, matched the crowd's perfectly, and the pink strands that settled in his hair made it all the less difficult to hide under the panicked teenagers, all of whom were pushing each other aside if only to make it through the doors. Eventually, the noise died down, and the people who were unfortunate enough to be trampled all over were made to stay along with the hostages.

His blue trench coat swept along the chaos, and when the calm reigned, he twisted around. He took off his shades then, and scanned through the enemy soldiers, before taking cover behind one of the curtains. He removed his presence then, and closed his eyes. His breathing became slower, his temperature dropping lower and lower, to the point he was almost shivering. He could feel the barrier Euphie set up targeting the terrorists as is, jamming their senses with the slightest of touches. Carefully, he stayed still, hearing their footsteps roam from one end of the room to the next, the Knightmares remaining.

He waited for a few seconds, before peering from around the fabric, seeing the pilots climbing out of their cockpits. He narrowed his eyes; these models weren't at all like the ones the Black Knights fought at TU. They were older, heavier, a splitting image of the Lancelot from when it was first tested. Were they just foot soldiers then? Were they disobeying orders, as Luzhin did, or were they scapegoats?

They were all talking aimlessly, their voices bounding away from one wall to the next. A quiet agony lay root in their words, as they questioned themselves on whether or not their intended target was even here. However, one of them quieted the complainers, not settling for any cravenness, especially "on an assignment as important as this."

He squinted when the leader removed his helmet, revealing a strong, old man. Grey hair wrapped around brown, and along with it, a resigned, sagacious tone enveloped his otherwise hostile voice. "I'm leaving you four in charge of things here."

Clamors of frightened whimpers came from the squad, who were, if anything, unsuitable for the battlefield. Still, one of them shouldered on, and resolved to hide his terrified tears, though they were already cascading down his cheeks. "Y-yes sir."

"What about you?" another asked.

"I'll go and check up on the hostages. If intelligence serves, the UFN, along with the rest of the world, will believe…" His voice faltered after that, the low whispers frustrating enough to push him away from his hiding place, and Suzaku grimaced. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hear the man anymore, nor could he make out any of the incoherent gibberish he was spouting towards his soldiers. It wasn't long before he turned away from the moment, easing himself away from the cameras and lights alike.

He rushed through the hallways, coming across the empty food courts, the abandoned trash now lying there for everyone to see. The filth decorated the tiles, the smashed food a result of the disorderly panic that manifested within the travelers. Tables were overturned, along with chairs swept here and there, revealing a sea of bodies making their way out of the airports with the decency of stepping over others, if only to make it out with their own lives in tact. He heard the voices coming from the other end of the food courts, so he stepped through one of the restaurants, sitting near the cash registers while watching out for the other men.

He's already told Euphie about what was going on, about his own suspicions, however small a chance it was that the speculation was actually true. He was to get in, find Lelouch, then get out before something happened. Meanwhile, Euphie was going to play as Zero's stand in, making sure the operations were going as planned. He was only going to be gone for a few hours, then return to Horai Island, hopefully with Lelouch in tow. However, it seems on of Arthur's soldiers managed to get in, and jutting from the Knightmares, it seems they were expendable pawns, meaning yet another destructive battle. The alarm itself forced Euphie to fly the Lancelot out to meet Cornelia to discuss the fate of the hostages.

He sighed then. In a way, the terrorists have made things a bit easier. He wouldn't have to spend his night waiting outside for Euphie to come and get him. Of course, the reigning bullets didn't make anything easier, and the very fact that all eyes will be on the Lancelot would make it harder to escape.

 _Suzaku, there's something wrong here,_ he heard Euphie whisper. He looked around, before standing, and making his way toward the more neglected corridors, when he stopped, footsteps steadily approaching him then. _There's another one above you. Stay there for now._

"Are the soldiers being tracked?" he whispered quietly, his eyes carefully following the sound of the man's footsteps from above the railing.

 _Be quiet._ she ordered gently. _There's two more coming over to you. They've never seen this much food before, so they'll stay there for a little bit. No, Arthur's not that obsessed; he'd rather deal with gold than blood._

"Euphie, I have no idea where I'm going. Can you get me to the gates?"

She smirked playfully. _I figured as much._

"Ha…"

 _Listen; in thirty minutes Ella's planning on contacting the leader and planning negotiations. What kind of Knightmares did you see when you were inside?_

"They were older models," Suzaku answered. "They weren't made for combat. The pilots don't seem that reliable either. If anything, they're only children."

 _They must be desperate then, if they're willing to attack a major airport like that._

"They all seemed to care about one another too." He slid his gaze toward the emptiness in front of him. "Euphie, what was that 'something'? Are they actually from Alfheimr?"

 _No. Their emotions aren't as erratic as Arthur's soldiers. There aren't any charms or spells from what I can see. They're genuine._

"Do you know if they're with Alfheimr?"

 _Even someone as arrogant as Arthur wouldn't allow his allies to go into battle without the proper equipment. He also wouldn't allow cowards to fight. From Ms. Ashford's broadcast, they haven't made any claims about being affiliated with Alfheimr either, meaning they're alone._

"Then can you convince Cornelia to wait a little longer? If they aren't after Lelouch, then-"

 _Suzaku, I recognized that man from somewhere._

He paused then, as he cautiously gazed around the room, hiding when yet another soldier appeared before him. "I see. Was he from the Courts?"

 _He was. When I was ruling, I believe he was one of my political allies. Lelouch was the one who established the treaty between the two of us._

A thought came to him then. "Euphie…would that guy support Arthur's reign now?"

 _No. But at this point, even the strongest will corrupt under that bastard's influence. I don't want to risk your life either for the chance of finding out which side he's on._

Suzaku peers from around the countertop, no one else in sight. He stands, and starts to run again. "This could be our chance though," he mutters. "If we gain another ally-"

Euphie sighed. _Fine. Just make sure no one else dies while you're in there, alright?"_

"Right."

 _Suzaku, you're going the wrong way; turn back and go to your left._

* * *

Her eyes widened, the fear coursing through her mind, as she watched in horror the terrorist hijack the airport was now faced with. Dead bodies covered the ground, with bleeding children lying helplessly toward the men in black, now marching forth their victory calls. They were demanding their compensation, the madness sheltered deep within their voices; wanting attention, craving for power, doing whatever they had to in order to make sure their suicide mission succeeds, however impossible that was. Already Cornelia's men were surrounding the airport, ready to break in at any moment if not for the fact the hostages were still inside.

Kallen bit her lip, her hands gripping the table's edge as she watched the nightmare unfold before her very eyes. Thankfully, her mother's flight was delayed, so she was safe in Hiroshima for the time being. And Naoko was with Rivalz, so the terrorist attack shouldn't involve him in the slightest. She took a deep breath then, and turned to one of the Black Knights. "Any word from Zero?"

"Third and fourth divisions are being deployed," she replied. "Zero Squad hasn't received any orders yet."

Kallen nodded, as she spun her heel and walked out of the room, the tension building up in her muscles. The new Knightmares aren't ready yet, and though the Guren's already gotten its modifications done, for some reason Zero wasn't letting them in. Cornelia was still trying to deal with the terrorists, but as of now, there were too many lives at stake, too many flights that are still in the air. And with the new security system the airport has installed, it seems that this time, spies weren't going to work; there were no soldiers in the crowds.

She bit her lip, already hearing Milly's voice echoing from the hallway. Kallen leaned against the wall and stared off into the already growing shadows. If this attack had anything to do with the secrets he's keeping, she might just have to go out there herself and demand the answers. She wasn't going to let another rash judgement take yet another commanding officer; there've already been too many deaths as is.

She felt her cellphone vibrate. Hastily, she whipped it out and checked the caller ID. "Rivalz?" she asked. "Where are you?"

"I ah…I'm in the restaurant." he stammered. "Where are you now? What are you guys doing?"

"The Black Knights are already on their way. How's Naoko?"

"T-that's the thing," he stated then, the hesitation growing more and more evident within the very confines of his voice. "When I woke up, he was gone."

Her fists clenched. "What?"

"He left a note, saying he was going to pick up your mom from the airport!"

"He snuck out?" Kallen whispered, her head whipping back toward the television screen. She stormed into the room once again, her hand trembling at the thought of the boy being there alone. Milly was there, her hands in her lap, relaying to them what was going on within the scenes, her voice being blurred from Kallen's mind. It was only a matter of seconds before the screen showed one of the airport's cameras, revealing the hostages trapped inside.

Promptly, Kallen grabbed the remote and paused it.

Yes, there were a few bodies there. Little toddlers were huddled next to their mothers, crying their eyes out, while fathers protectively shielded their families, though tiny sobs and whimpers escaped from their lips, begging them not to shoot. There were angry faces plastered within the many people inside, all of whom were trying to look for a way out, though it would most likely cost them their dignity in the end. She squinted her eyes, and before long, she played the screen again, and shoved the remote back into some unknowing Knight, who was now trying to see the same thing she did to no avail.

She cursed then, as she walked out of the room. "Rivalz, what exactly was Naoko doing the past few days?"

"He was um…he was helping me around my place. What does that have to do with anything?!" he suddenly screamed. "You're a Black Knight! Can't you do something?"

"Calm down Rivalz," she ordered. "So your customers have seen him?"

"Y-yeah…he kept getting a lot to come back, so I figured-"

"Anywhere else he's been?"

"He…he was with me…and Milly…"

Kallen hung up then, and quickly dialed Zero's number. By now, her sweaty palms coated her hands stubbornly, and the anxieties began tearing her down. She frustratedly swept her bangs away from her eyes, the panicked light predominant in her normally coolheaded disposition. "Q1," she finally heard.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Zero, please-!"

"Q1, Todoh will take care of this. You stay in India and observe."

"Zero, _I need you to-"_

"Kozuki, I need you _to stay put_ and _listen._ Understood?"

She gritted her teeth, the order hard to swallow down. Why won't he order her into the battle? Doesn't he see her value in this crisis? And besides, her friends were down there! Not just Naoko, but Shirley too! There were a lot of lives at stake and he just wants her to _observe?_

Yet he also remembered the questions he asked her, that same, slight suspicion for which she did her best to fight off, even though there was a good chance he hadn't believed her excuses. If she showed up there now…

She bit her lip. "My friends are there…"

"And we'll get them out," he assured, in that same, professional tone of his. "But we can't afford any distractions at the moment. You understand, don't you?"

She fell silent.

"Kozuki?"

"I…I understand."

* * *

Rivalz stared back at his phone, his eyes staring at the ground, at nothing at all, as the force of her words sunk into his brain. Wordlessly, he allows the phone to fall to the counter, his hands along with it, as he forces his gaze back to the oversized television screen mounted on the wall, his mind thrown back into that unpleasant familiarity of oblivion.

Silence etched over the entire restaurant. No one dared move, the slightest sound an interruption to what was happening, yet again, in this peaceful world. From the corners of his eyes, he could see the morbid, depressing curiosity within his customer's wrinkles, the sorrowful confusion enveloped within the once happy atmosphere. They held onto their loved ones a bit tighter, as they regarded the screen evenly, asking themselves why? Even after the Demon Emperor had died, why was this still happening? Wasn't the world supposed to be a better place with him gone? Wasn't everything supposed to work out after this, what with the main antagonist buried six feet under? They couldn't understand. They couldn't _see_ why anyone would allow this to happen, even with Britannia securing the world's safety.

Rivalz felt his knees wobble.

 _What exactly was Naoko doing?_

That was the question Kallen asked him, right? What did that have to do with any of this? Though Lelouch was involved with the whole take-over-the-world scheme, Naoko was innocent. It wasn't fair for the guy to be blamed for everything Lelouch did, even though they looked so similar. It just…

 _The guy's got no other place to stay._

Rivalz straightened, his muscles relaxing, as he tore his gaze away from the screen. He turns around, not wanting anyone to discover the shock subtly engulfing his features. Aside from Kallen, he's stayed with no one else. He just took him in without any question, without asking her what was going on. Of course, she would probably just lie to him then, just as she had with Lelouch, and Milly, and perhaps even Shirley.

 _He didn't do anything wrong._

It was a statement Rivalz suddenly found very hard to believe.

Though he's stayed with him, though he helped Rivalz get back in touch with Milly and Kallen, in the end, it was a simple fact for the boy to realize…that he didn't know a single damn thing about Naoko. Amnesic, with little knowledge of how the world actually works, but that could be just another facade too, the sting of that deception very much still in his heart. Maybe that was the reason why Kallen wanted to keep an eye on him, because she still had faith in Lelouch, even though he betrayed them all.

How long was she stuck in that world? How long was she going to keep lying to herself like that?

 _He snuck out?_

He stared down at his phone for a while, his bangs covering his still childish eyes. He took a deep breath, and tried calling the pilot again.

She never answered.


	38. Chapter 38

Morgan followed the knights down the dark, dank dungeon, her fingers carelessly tracing over the cages for which only the dead reside. Her eyes kept glancing here and there, making out the forgotten silhouettes that even memories could not bring back. No name, no grave, and only chains to keep the corpses company; she stares depressively at the horrid treatment. From then, she removes herself from the voiceless objects, continuing her way down the stone corridor.

Sharp arches swung through large, iron beams. Stray liquids dotted the corners, a putrid smell coming through the hellish purgatory. Tiny, dried bloodstains kept up its stench from days before, and from a tiny crack through the edifice, the witch could make out the various execution arenas, where the nobility sat in fiendish delight. Wild, feral cries echoed from beyond the towers, and perhaps the only viable source of light, black candles which gave off their unholy warmth, began coating the prison with a deep sense of dread.

The audience was ready; they were willing to watch the next judgement. No one would leave this asylum, at least, not without their permission. She choked at the sight of it.

The two knights stop in front of a large, iron door. Wooden boards seemingly cast aside, the metal reflected her cruelty happily, though the entire farce was forced. The harsh judgement continued on as one of the men fumbled with the keys, his fat fingers causing the poor things to slip to the ground quite constantly. He cursed then, as he looked back, hissing at her with that grotesque, disgusting attitude of his. "Remember your place."

"I wasn't making fun of you."

"I'm not an idiot," he said pridefully.

"Apparently so."

He bit his lip, before turning around, redoing his tries over again. Before long, the latch fell pitifully to the ground, and the knight swung open the door, gesturing Morgan inside. She closed her eyes, and reopened them again, before walking into the room with little reluctance.

The torture chamber was every bit horrific as the rest of the dungeon, if not more by the macabre prayers written all over the bodies of stray heroes and criminals alike, who died only a few days ago, were left up in the ceiling, the hangings clearly a favorite to the demented monarchy. Nooses wrapped their necks seductively, their throats exposed to the pressure long enough for the decapitation to begin. Flies were resting on the shoulders, on the whites of the corneas where light once dwelled. Maggots kept falling from the bodies, splattering all over the floors with their unwelcome presence. Off to the side, there was a whip hanging from the walls, along with a stake and nails all intended for the victim, and the victim alone. A saw rested near the door, along with a ball and chain for the rest of the men to abide themselves by, doing whatever they would to the prisoners if only to stave off the boredom they suffered from.

Normally, the chamber would be empty in the morning. There were no executions today, from what Morgan could tell, and Arthur was busy dealing with the Winter Courts to deal with the administration in Camelot. It would seem, then, that there was no use for her being here, other than to entertain the knights.

However, once again, she was proven wrong.

A creature lay there, writhing in chains, moaning desperately her daughter's name, murmuring sweet descriptions of her deceased husband's face. Unlike the other bodies, her corneas were a deep black, drowning away life's delights with nary an effort or thought. Crimson veins came up from behind her cheek, and wide, crisp fangs dangled from the roof of her mouth. Long claws kept scratching the chains, all the while attached to loose, yellow skin clinging to a mismatch of bones.

Sorrow poured through the witch then, as she turned to the knights. "Where's the executioner?"

"Dealing with Mab's forces," one of them pipes up. "And the general is in the war room."

She blinked. "They've found Lord Sirius?"

"No, Lord Drake, milady. His trial will take place three days from now, in the afternoon if you're interested/"

The rude man elbows his partner then, a deep, irritated scowl decorating his features. "She's a whore. No need to be so formal."

"She has manners." he answers simply.

Morgan narrows her eyes, before turning back to the monster once again. She takes one, cautious step towards the thing, before jumping back at the sudden attack, barely dodging a fatal love tap from the woman. Her heart's only been broken for a few days, but already the woman has progressed so far. Even if she did see her daughter again, it was only a matter of time before, even that, fades from her mind, poisoned by this remorseless world, a reality that Arthur happily reigned.

She clutches her black skirts tightly. "Then get the commander to do it. I want no part of this."

"Sorry ma'am. His Highness's orders."

She stared down confusingly. "Arthur's?"

"That's right. He says you've shown improvement recently. However…ah-"

"He's not happy with your art," that brat finally states haughtily. "Not enough gore it seems. He feels he needs you to get close into the action to really feel the nightmares etched away the victims. He wants you to understand what it feels like to be the main character, rather than the narrator. It's so poetic and complex I'm not surprised you wouldn't understand it."

"Shut up," the knight murmurs then, before turning to Morgan. "Think of it as special treatment. Half the army would've liked to have a request such as this. And of course, only the most trusted of nobles could do such a thing. It's an honor, milady."

"An honor?"

"Correct!" he continues. "Besides which, this woman is guilty of treason."

"How?"

"She's been helping various resistance groups from across the kingdoms, giving them food and shelter to both the militia and the vagabonds. We caught her a fortnight ago, providing shelter to a criminal we've been looking for." He sighed then. "Why anyone would betray his Majesty is beyond me. From what I've heard, the capital's been doing great. Even you get to benefit from it milady."

"Yeah," the brat chimes in. "You're 'the special one'. Aside from Lord Mordred, you're also acting as Arthur's court jester, right?"

"I suppose so," she answers aimlessly.

He scoffs. "Just because you're a fool doesn't mean you get to boss us around. We've already got one sex toy; we don't need another."

Morgan cocks her head at the woman, who was now reaching out to her mournfully. Sobbing sounds rose from her throat, the tears coming away more and more profusely, until finally, the salty stream mixed with crimson. The witch couldn't help but see past the mother's face, past the broken heart she sheltered, nursed, encouraged throughout the decades. The curse was once again, beginning to manifest itself.

"Where is she?" she croaked.

Morgan stands over the woman, one foot positioned above her neck. Her arms lay lifelessly to her side, as she turns away, an unpleasant grimace coating her face. Her bangs fall over her face. She brushes away the knight's clapping, as he eagerly watches the heel slowly digging into the creature's neck. She ignores the jealous harrumph of the brat nearby, grateful he was turning away as to not discover her cowardliness.

It was then Morgan heard Lisette's name come up from behind her lips.

She remained where she was, when the heel came crashing down through the woman's throat, her head lopping away at the very seams.

She takes one last breath, standing there, frozen within her place.

It was Lisette's mother.

It was Lisette's mother whom Morgan had just executed.

* * *

The girl placed herself protectively over Naoko, one hand forcing his head down, the other tightly gripping her bags. Her piercing green eyes kept shifting from solider to solider, while whispering reassuringly, "It'll be okay, it'll be okay," over and over again. From her trembling frame, however, the situation seemed anything but.

Naoko quietly gazed around their isolated environment. As far as he could tell, no one was coming in or going out, and from the way the men kept whispering with one another, kept hesitating despite their obvious advantage, it was all the boy could do not to stand and race toward them that very moment, disarming them with one of Kallen's moves. If anything, it seems they didn't know what they were doing, nor did they understand how they came to be here, other than their utter dependence on what appeared to be a lone drug. Children were misbehaving, and a few citizens kept crying out why they were doing this, what they could possibly hope to gain from it. However, no one answered, and aside from the casual threats, no mention of Alfheimr was involved.

Naoko bit his lip, and stole a look at the clock. Ms. Kozuki wasn't here. Most likely they would've already grounded her flight, meaning she was safe. Brief glimpses of the outside revealed Britannian military situated near the vicinity, all of whom were probably waiting for Princess Cornelia's orders to strike the airports and rescue the hostages. The Black Knights have yet to arrive.

Slowly, he pries away the girl's hands, and stares warily at one of the men, whose back was turned away from his. He ignored the girl's frantic whispers, as well as the possible consequences for endeavoring in such a feat, and regarded them evenly, scrutinizing their elongated, war-torn faces.

They haven't even been here for ten minutes and already people were dead. The Knightmares near the waiting area, the ones that surrounded them so easily, so deliberately, all seemed so very familiar to him. They were similar to the ones at TU, but of course, their designs were simpler, and from the way they looked, it seemed they were easy to operate.

He clenched his fists; he didn't think Alfheimr would let their soldiers go unarmed in the battlefield. No; the terrorists here seemed to have their own agenda. They didn't belong to any one group. At the very least, they were conflicted, emotionally, morally.

He heard footsteps approaching the group, and he kept his eyes down. Kallen wasn't going to come this time. Zero would have to wait until Cornelia finished negotiating with the terrorists to even make a move. The world already knew what had happened here, from the careless way they broadcasted the security networks. He wondered if anyone had caught the subtle deception yet, if anyone had even begun to grasp the remarkable illusion of the group's independence. Probably not, considering how chaotic the reporters were outside.

His head jolted upwards when he heard a child's cries resound from the depths of the waiting area. His eyes widened when one of the soldiers came toward a boy, who was clutching his mother desperately, doing whatever he could to stay on her lap. He swirled his gun toward the boy and said, "Shut that thing up."

Obediently, the mother did so.

"Foster."

Many of the hostages, excluding Naoko, who was still staring at the child, gazed up at the sudden intruder, the anomaly standing near the door.

From the boy's eyes, grey strands intermingled with brown, the man's horrendous scars draping across his face for everyone to see. Cool, steel eyes regarded the hostages with little pity, and though there was little warmth from his cool, metallic frame, the onslaught of fear that seeped from the child's eyes seemed to dissipate. Rather, it was replaced by a childlike curiosity, a feature Naoko hadn't seen in such a long time. There was a tiny, grey stubble around his lips, and though his dark, durable skin made a more effective shield than the armor, there were long, black scars across his arms, with tiny scars around his neck. Blood was still seeping from the wounds.

But at the same time, a calm, wise atmosphere radiated from the man. Though the girl beside him kept trembling, Naoko found himself sitting there, slowly turning toward the man, silently watching him come from one side to the next. "You already know why we're here. Don't do anything unnecessary."

Much to everyone's relief, the gun swung back to the man's side. "This place is annoying." he murmured.

"I realize that."

"Hurry up then."

"Listen up everyone," he booms then, his strong, unearthly voice bouncing off the glass with its tumultuous vibrations. Timidly, the hostages do so. "I want to make one thing clear. We are here for one thing only, and when we achieve that one thing, you'll go back to your everyday lives. Understand?"

Worried murmurs erupted from the crowds, no tone too conspicuous enough to warrant any attention. A few moments later, the man holds up his hand, and the whispers die down. His hand falls back to his side, as he walks closer to his audience, passing Naoko with ease. He begins to open his mouth when, once again, the child begins crying.

Hastily, Naoko turns. The mother was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding herself away from the stray corner in the background. The man spins his heel, his eyes seeking out that child at that very moment.

Naoko curses mentally, as he grabbed the boy and smothers his blubbering lips with one hand. He didn't dare to turn around, didn't dare to see the angered glares that were stabbing him at that moment. He crouches down and holds the quivering boy to his chest, doing whatever he could to silence the child's immature fears. Unfortunately, by then he was receiving those very same stares that came across so recklessly, so frequently; even the orange-haired girl, who protected him, stood there, watching him with curious eyes.

"You there, on the ground."

Naoko froze, holding the boy tightly. His bangs fell toward his eyes, as he hesitantly turns around toward the man. By then, the crowds have parted, a majority of them resuming their shaking and quivering. The mother, who held that cravenness so dearly to her heart, latched her arm onto someone else, ceasing to care about what would happen to her child, who happened to be in the arms of a stranger. The girl had looked away as well, her hand rummaging through her purse, trying to look for a cellphone, or a gun, or even a pen, at that point; at the very least, something to help her in the ordeal.

"Mordred?" Naoko heard.

It happened so very quickly after that moment.

Negotiations have failed. Britannian military stormed the airports, shooting at the black Knightmares while carefully aiming away from the citizens. A barrage of bullets came reigning down upon the terrorists, adorning their victorious screeches as the hostages rushed away from the soldiers. Bodies fell left from right, and as Naoko sat there, in the midst of the battlefield, the boy in hand. He forced himself to move.

He was suddenly running, the child passed out in his arms. The mother was dead, shot in the head by an enemy soldier. The girl was still running, albeit a gunshot wound in her arm. Scrambles of screams kept hiding their voices behind the Knightmares. No one was following him; everyone was scattered, trying to find a way out from this now turned niche of hell.

Naoko collapsed, a bullet grazing the side of his legs. He fumbled a bit, though he managed to regain his balance and continue on with his endeavors, doing whatever he could to reach the exit. He couldn't slow down. If he did, he'd be killed.

It was only a second later did he see the Lancelot barreling down at him.

* * *

"Suzaku!" Euphemia screamed. "Suzaku, where are you? Get the hell out of there!"

No response.

She bit her lip, racing down through to the now destructive war zone. Helpless citizens were taking shelter behind the Knightmare Frame, all the while waving frantically at their companions and any force available. She stole a brief, relieved look toward the former bargaining tools, before returning to the front. Ella's voice cracked from above. "Zero! Your men are here! Allow me to handle the terrorists."

She narrowed her eyes. "No. Cornelia, have a part of the Glaston Knights go the rear. Use the opening from there to break through their ranks. Lead the assault with the fourth division."

"Fine then," she replied hesitantly.

She smirked. "It's fine. I didn't think they were going to listen." And with that, she cut off the line, remnants of Suzaku's voice still entrenched in her throat.

This was bad. She's already taken out dozens of enemy Knightmares, but she still couldn't find Suzaku. Moreover, something was jamming her own barrier, her advantage slipping away from her fingers. If this drags on, Ella's forces will probably be surrounded, before the royal guard can even get to her.

Her eyes look down on the screen, and widen with the appearance of two Knightmares instantly coming onto the scene. She gritted her teeth. "R-2, get out of there! Aim for the legs, and smash through the defenses! Todoh, get the hostages out of there! Make sure you-!"

There was a young man in front of her. He was standing there, with an unconscious boy in his arms, as he gazed up at her with wide eyes, the shock so very evident on his face. He was staring up at her with those painful, loving golden orbs, colors she recognized from a dear friend who'd gone missing long ago. Brown hair swept through the chaos, and in the midst of the fray, he stood there, as if patiently waiting for the Lancelot to say something, anything at all that could end this fighting.

"Zero?" Todoh's voice came. "Zero! Where are you now?"

 _Euphie!_

The shock jolted her awake, as she stared down at the screen. Her eyes turned toward the controls then, her finger on her temples. "Have you cleared the lower levels?"

"Yes! We're making our way to the hostages now."

"Fine." She said then, redressing Suzaku's presence in her mind, as she cut off the radio. _Euphie!_ he shouted again. _What's happening?_

"I've found him," she began. "I've-"

 _Listen! There's something-!_

And in that moment, her beautiful brother had instantly vanished before her eyes.


	39. Chapter 39

Cornelia stared down at the screen, watching steadily the enemy Knightmares retreating from the airports altogether. She gritted her teeth, before spouting the her orders. Just what were they after anyways?

"Go after them!" she shouted. "Make sure they don't escape!"

"Yes, your Highness!" they all chanted.

"Zero! What's your position now?" she asked then, her purple eyes turning away from the chaotic folds. When he didn't answer, she bit her lip. "Zero!"

"I'm here, Cornelia."

She blinked, the weariness entwined within the man's words. However, she brushed it aside, and continued on with her own alarm. "Zero, where are you? What happened to the hostages?"

"They made it out. Casualties are being recorded as of now. Your Highness, I'd rather you not follow the terrorists now."

"What?" she hissed, as she turned back to the screen. "What are you-?"

"Princess!" a soldier suddenly shouted. "We can't find them!"

"What? They're all gone?" another cried out.

"We can't find any of them."

"Cornelia," Zero's quiet, emotionless voice stated once again. "Stand by and regroup. Assure that all the men are accounted for. That's all." And with that, the Black Knight cut off, as he left the confused princess in her wake.

* * *

Orange, seething rays escaped from the crimson, once restful curtains, the light breeze nearby a testament to the loneliness to which the entire room was enveloped. Steel floors reflected back the sun's unholy radiance, the warm table suffering agonizingly from the tips of her fingernails. Black seats set themselves near the map, with Japan frustratedly circled in green and blue and red and any other color the Empress could find. Overhead, the Britannian flag hung pathetically from the iron beams, the once proud nation now standing over the edge of failure.

She'd done it again. She let him slip through _again._

Nunnally held her breath, rapping her fingers impatiently against on the desk. She closed her eyes for a moment, her hands tightly gripping the edge of the table, as Milly's voice echoed throughout her mind.

Forty were found dead.

Another thirty-six were injured.

She breathed a deep, heavy sigh, the war room growing ever larger in front of her tiny presence. Cornelia had just contacted her a few hours later from the scene. Apparently, they'd just reviewed the security footage, and somehow, someway, the terrorists got past all of them. Suddenly, they were just there, within the crowds, with an army of Knightmares behind them. Innocent lives were caught up in the madness, and even from here, she could practically hear their insecure wails crying out for more protection.

Nunnally raised one hand and slammed it down, her fist throbbing from the necessary pain.

Behind her was Schniezel, who, from the corner of her eyes, grimaced at her sudden breakdown. His blond hair fell across his eyes, the black suite contrasting so very well with his pale features. Meanwhile, all twelve maids stood in front of her, in the middle of the room. Sad expressions decorated their faces, genuine sorrow for the people who've died already coming to the fold. Yet, all the same, they were as every bit as shocked as Schniezel that Nunnally would react this way, though she remained so calm throughout the entire experience.

She bit the inside of her cheek, and slowly, she straightened, her mind still thrust into the folds of emotional turbulence. What a disgrace. The whole world was mourning, and she had the audacity to cry with them. She's the Empress of Britannia, as well as the Demon Emperor's sister. She couldn't even begin to face Lelouch or Suzaku if they saw her like this. Her lips parted slightly.

"Jeanette," she inquired quietly, "you said you knew these terrorists?"

The maid started shaking her head vigorously, but then stopped. Her eyes gazed down, a deep, contemplative light taking form in her eyes. And finally, she recanted her previous, unfinished answer. "I know of them. Or at least, the Knightmares look familiar."

Nunnally nodded. "Yes. They were the same models used to attack Buckingham Palace, correct?"

"No."

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Jeanette flinched at the girl's sharp tone, but proceeded to satisfy her mistress's raging curiosity. "When we…when we were all still with Alfheimr, Arthur showed us pictures of Queen Guinevere's army. They were using those same Knightmares."

"How can you tell?"

"It's true!" another maid, Mary, piped up. "We know because Arthur had just come from the Unseelie Courts! He was Guinevere's hostage! He told us himself!"

This again? Nunnally rubbed her temples tiredly, her eyes having no effort to conceal the annoyance. "I'm not in the mood for fairytales." she muttered.

"Please milady! We would never lie to you!" Jeanette pleaded. "You simply _must_ believe us!"

She heard Schniezel's quite footsteps echo towards her. His own shadow leaned over hers protectively. "Nunnally, you know they'd never lie to you."

She laughed pitifully. Suzaku was the one who stationed him here. He specifically ordered Schniezel to be of use to her, especially in a crisis as extravagant as this. However, to buy into an incompetent fairytale…

But that raging fire still lingered inside the royal'd mind.

She stared up at the maids again, a piercing, analytical gaze claiming their attentions. Nunnally could see Schniezel's satisfied smile from the table's reflection, but disregarded it completely. "Fine then," she answered, blushing slightly at their simultaneous, relieved sighs.

The girl already knew of Arthur. He was incredibly important to Vivien, a pawn the witch could use to claim back a lost throne no one knew anything about. Titania was a bit of a struggle, but the three seemed so pathetic she never gave another thought about how she was going to deal with them. She figured then that as long as she kept her eyes on them, there wouldn't be another mess for the world to clean up.

How wrong that assumption was.

"I want you to tell me just what you've seen," Nunnally commanded, as she took her place at the head of the table. Old memories were dredged from the back of her mind, as she pressed on with the topic. "Just what were your lives like before Gawain sent you to me?"

One of the maids bit her lip. "Horrid."

"Tragic."

"Utterly repulsive."

"Do you remember anything specific about Alfheimr? Or Arthur?"

Rosette stepped forward, her usually humble, downcast expression now replaced by a fierce, courageous light, something Nunnally found incredibly refreshing. "He was a horrible king, milady. You did good not to support his uprising."

"What was he like?"

"He was cruel," the woman continued. "He was the bane of the battlefield, a monster everyone took heed to avoid. Even the most corrupt of nobles had to bow to him, should they misstep and be sentenced to death for whatever treason the king decides. It was only natural that when Lady Guinevere usurped his control, the entire kingdom celebrated."

The shock came rushing back to her then.

Nunnally recalled her suspicions of the ruler, and it didn't help that Vivien edged her on, claiming the supposedly evil princess to be Euphie. Yet the very notion of the subject was just too fascinating to ignore, and before she knew it, questions rained down from Nunnally's brain, shoving their words into her gaze with little hesitation. "Guinevere?"

"That's right," she answered, a brief, nostalgic smile slipping along her face. "She was a wonderful woman. We were all present at her coronation." She chuckled then, a cheerful one that differed from the silence Nunnally usually received. "In some ways, she was more daring than you, your Highness. She walked right up to a poor sap during the ceremony, placed a sword in his hand, and told her to run her through. By the time the coronation was over, we were all laughing."

"She was a good ruler then?"

"Yes," Rose answered, the confidence slowly gaining from her eyes. "We were all Arthur's slaves before she became Queen. We loved her."

Nunnally closed her eyes, remembering the countless moments from which her sister's playfulness caused both she and Lelouch unwanted trouble. "So what happened then?" the Empress pressed, folding her hands into her lap. "Why'd you all leave?"

The maid's jubilant attitude had instantly faded, a dark, looming hatred taking form in her balled fists. "Lady Titania kidnapped us one night, while her Highness was away. She kidnapped us, and sold us to Alfheimr. We've remained with those _beasts_ ever since."

"Was Arthur with you at that time?"

"No milady. It was when the Black Knights invaded the Unseelie Courts did Arthur escape. He made his way to Alfheimr, and he's been with them ever since."

Her eyes widened. "Black Knights?"

"That's correct. However, by then Lady Vivien managed to come to Britannia as well. She took advantage of the opportunity, and…and she-"

Nunnally tuned the maid out, fixated on the predicament sitting before her. Suzaku attacked the Unseelie Courts…and _that_ was how Arthur managed to escape. _That_ was what _started_ this whole mess. "Do you know if Zero was working with them?" she interrupted.

"I can answer that Nunnally," Schniezel stated defensively, his strong, solid voice resounding from behind her back. "Zero is a man that would do nothing of the sort. Perhaps he was trying to stop the invasion, rather than assist it."

"I wouldn't know," she whispered bitterly. How he managed to bypass her with all of this was no strange concept. She looked down at Rose then, who seemed too afraid to continue on. Nunnally took one, deep breath, calming her senses before, once again, confronting her maids. "Is Arthur leading the terrorists now?"

"He is," Sally said, albeit somewhat timidly. "Whenever I saw him, he was always talking about Lord Mordred. He's the only person I know who would do something as drastic as this. Just for a court jester as well."

Modred, the very source of the problem. Nunnally leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs. She folded her arms to her tiny chest, and relinquished whatever civilized restraint she had for the terrorists. "Why is Arthur so fixated on Mordred anyways?" she asked. "Do any of you know?"

They all stared down at their toes, the intellectual silence coming through the atmosphere. Finally, Jeanette piped up, "I heard they were friends once. From one of the guards, of course."

"Friends?"

"That's right. When her Highness imprisoned the king, she demanded no one else seem him. Everyone was fine with that, but in the end, I believe it was Lord Mordred who took pity on him. I've no idea what happened after that."

"Do you remember anything about Lord Mordred?" she asked. "And what've Guinevere? Were you happy?"

"Y-yes!" she said. "Like we've said before milady, we were all very happy!"

Nunnally stood up then, causing all the maids to take a single step back.

That would explain everything. Guinevere took over, and locked away her lover, branding her as the traitor to the Courts. That terrorist who spoke with her in the Palace had asked that she bring the boy from the classroom to her, that boy being Mordred. Vivien said Euphie was still alive, alive and well, and ruling over the Unseelie Courts. And if it was her beloved sister, then there was a very good chance that Lelouch might've ruled along with her. What about Suzaku? Did he help her too?

She stared down at the maids then. "I received a phone call from Alfheimr," she stated then. "They threatened to kill me if I didn't cooperate with them."

Their collective gasps countered the dramatic realization, though it didn't bother Nunnally the least. "According to Arthur, Mordred's painting is here, in the Art Galleries."

One of the maids, Veronica, took a step forward. "I'm not sure milady. However, I saw a picture of a child who might be his Highness." She turned back to her fellow friends, all of whom now listened intently. "Do you all remember what I told you yesterday? I saw Guinevere's picture as well."

She walked toward the maid, an even stride against the torrent of feelings residing in her heart. "Then lead me to it."

* * *

He woke to the sound of screams.

He was covered in soiled rags, the blankets tightly wrapped around him with only rough fabric to guard against the cold. Eyes peer out into the darkness, and from the jostling, he managed to straighten himself, the warm bodies jumping away at the sudden movement. And when he looked up, he could see the familiar, eager faces watching him carefully, hopefully, while pondering at the many escape routes he could take, at the many victories he could have offer them.

The boy that he rescued was sitting there, looking at him.

He blinked then, that child. Scruffy brown hair fell over his enthusiastic blue eyes, his grimy, dirt covered face pouring away the cold sweat dripping down his forehead. He stares up then, his eyes shifting from one adult to the next, his eager whispers decorating the thick relief in his voice. All the while the child was coming away from Naoko, he manages to sit up. He started to look around the ruined room.

But it wasn't before long when he was hoisted upwards, by a young chubby woman. "Go on!" she screamed then, when she shoved him away from her, sending him flying to the terrorists who attacked the airports.

His eyes widened.

Where was everyone?

His thoughts were cut away when the sun suddenly came upon him.

And with it, a Black, horrendous Knightmare.

Naoko froze then, his legs unwilling to move, if only to get him to safety. He could feel himself falling from his own balance, the stability ending with one look toward the woman who had tried to save him, the barrage of bullets ripping away her flesh with every shot fired.

"What the hell are you doin' just standing there?!" one of the men screamed, as he grabbed Naoko's arm. "We're getting the hell out of here!"

He shoved Naoko away from the gory scene, forcing the boy into a bedroom door, revealing a descending tunnel for which the darkness invited. Many more of those men were waiting. One of them pushed Naoko away from the door, and forced him into the tunnels.

"Keep running!" he screamed.

And he did just that.


	40. Chapter 40

The empty throne room grazed the silence, predicting whatever haunted, disturbing outcome may appear in his beloved kingdom's repression. The war generals were all out, trying to quell the tiny sparks of life suddenly giving way to the uprisings from afar. Many of the nobles were sitting at the executions' arenas, marveling at how sharp the blades were, how incredibly fatal the weapons could be should the right commander possess them. They clapped at the beheadings, the electrocutions, the poisonings; from what she could recall, they haven't used hemlock in a while, ever since the scholars were purged from the universities.

Morgan stood in front of His Majesty, iris eyes draped lowly to the ground as the king continued on with his inspection. Her naked body attacked her once prideful mind, the floors reflecting whatever shame she had left, all the remorse she carried from so very long ago. Canvases lay torn from the marbled floors, along with tattered sketches that once housed the graceful man she kept seeing from within that ballroom. Every feeling she had that moment vanished before her soul, leaving an empty nothingness to which the sorrow blossomed.

She took a deep breath when she felt Arthur's hot breath running down her neck. "Are you finished?"

"Not quite," he murmured. She could feel his morbidly perverted gaze bore through her flawless skin, the mental wounds seeping through her flesh with each step he took. After a while, she felt his eyes leave her body, in favor of the dreamlike artwork he so bitterly thrown away. "It's not perfect."

"The Wildelands are being dealt with. Would you like me to go to there?"

He shoved her against the steps of the throne, the hate filled touch forcing her against the hard marble. "There's a very important guest there, and I prefer you not press your desperation on him. It's your own fault for being so mediocre."

She never took her eyes off the floor, though irritation washed over her. She clenched her fists. "Then what _would_ you have me do? The execution was an obvious failure."

"That _is_ a problem."

He paused then. Whatever gracelessness was left in his eyes was absorbed by black. Morgan didn't need to turn around to see the frustrations etched behind his smile. She heard his footsteps bombard her eardrums, the tension quickly building up as fast as it had dissipated. "Your name is Morgan." he said then, allowing no compromise from the witch.

"Yes," she answered coldly.

He was quiet. At last, the king turned away. "Tell me. What do you think of Guinevere?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You've a sharp tongue today."

"You neither care nor listen," Morgan replied. "I don't think my opinion would be of any consequence to you."

"And you're more irritable than usual," he observed, a resounding calm entrenched from the back of his throat. His armor clanked behind the nestled robes near his body, causing Morgan to gaze at her own dress, which lay only a few feet away from her. "Arthur-"

"Mordred is still missing."

She paused, her own miseries rebounding from the depths of her mind. Before long, she grabbed the cloth, and quickly strapped the refuge on her body, all the while maintaining her emotionless demeanor. "I see."

"You don't care for him?" Arthur asked, his black pupils scrutinizing the witch.

"I don't know who your little fool is," she stated callously. "I've never seen him, nor have I had the disgusting pleasure of meeting him. Do what you will, but l'm perfectly content with my own mediocre work."

"That's not good. The aristocrats prefer something…more lively, rather than the peace you keep depicting."

"They were remnants of a happier time. Perhaps it's your friends' twisted perspectives that make the paintings such a dull subject in their eyes."

"What an awful way to put it." he whispered, suddenly intrigued by whatever thoughts the outcast claimed. "And of Lancelot? You've heard of him, at the very least, have you?"

"I have."

"And?"

"As I've said before," she scowled, her eyes narrowing at the portrait ahead of her. She straightened her hair, green descending down the tainted fabric, as she regarded the Queen evenly. Remnants of a happier time? A strange way to put it, but how else could she describe it? "You don't care for my opinions. Why bother asking me anyways?"

"That's not good Morgan."

Two, stubborn hands clung to her shoulders, forcing the witch down the steps. Her back was still towards the king, though by now his fingers traced her throat, his own nails biting into the soft, vulnerable lines. She grimaced, biting her tongue to keep herself from screaming. "You really should value yourself a bit more. It's not every day I get to play with you like this."

"Go to hell."

"You're behaving awfully strangely today," he muttered, wrapping both arms around her waist. "You're more belligerent, more aggressive; nothing at all like the slave girl I raised. Why, I wonder? Did something happen?"

"Your Majesty!"

Morgan heard Arthur's annoyed grunt, as he swiftly turned his head, his eyes barely peering at the soldier who interrupted his time alone. He covered her eyes with one hand, while the other wrapped around her slender neck, the gesture threatening enough for Morgan to stop her struggling. "What is it?" he asked irritatedly.

The soldier stood there for a moment, as if wondering if he should return, or perhaps come out with whatever news he had. When the man took too long, Arthur barked, "Well?"

"I-it's from…from Cailleach, milord…"

"What about the slut?"

"She…we believes she's found Lord Mordred."

* * *

Naoko's heavy breaths kept pulling behind him, the tiny wisps of air giving rise to a frostbite not even he could feel. His legs felt heavy, his chest was pounding, his lungs were about to burst, and yet still, he had no idea where he was going. The men behind him were shoving him forward, their arms yanking him along the dirt path all the while trying to keep moving from the obvious threat lingering behind them. Their panic was evident through the constant whimpering from the background, the jeering insults the men relayed to one another as they tried coming up with any viable plan to get themselves out of the situation.

One little misstep, however, caused their hatred to turn to Naoko. He landed hard on the ground, grunting heavily while endeavoring to remain conscious of it all. He could feel their eyes staring at him for a while, before relinquishing whatever self-control they had left in their brains.

He heard one of the men groan. "That's it! We're all gonna die!"

"Shut up! That's _not_ gonna happen!" another said, hoisting Naoko up and shoving him along the path. "Come on kid! Keep moving!"

"Will you just stop?!" another voice screamed. "This wouldn't have happened if we hadn't rebelled against the king!"

"That _bastard_ needs to be taken down!"

They were running again, this time tiny cracks of light peeping through the air. Though the blinding rays entwined with the chaos the men were reliving, Naoko caught stray glimpses of the outside. The sounds were growing farther and farther away. Were the Knightmares still there.

Someone grabbed his own hand then, urging him on into the corridor. "Just a little more!" the man muttered.

Naoko blinked, his thoughts regaining their somewhat composed disposition with each step taken. The concentration, however, fell short, when those tiny, small rays suddenly burst at the seams, the fresh air bombarding him so easily.

Verdant leaves covered the vicinity from which the grassy plains so easily dwelt. Cloudy skies oversaw the soft meadows, the rolling hills from behind the tall fields. Surrounding him were torn tents, organized so very carefully, like the kind he saw in storybooks. Guns leaned delicately near the wooden posts, rags from everywhere steadily coming through the wind swept atmosphere. Scattered around the horizon were those same Black Knightmares Naoko saw from the airport.

It didn't take the boy very long to figure out where he was.

"Sorry," a man murmured, his hand slamming down on Naoko's shoulder. He hastily turned, finding the same terrorist he saw from before greeting him with a sad, albeit friendly smile. "I didn't think it'd be that violent."

Naoko scrambled away from the man, his legs flailing underneath him. Fear entrenched his wide, golden eyes, the bodies at once standing near his memories. It didn't matter if the leader was weak or not; he was dangerous. He's already killed people! He'll probably do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Where was the royal guard? What about that child? And the orange-haired girl? And Zero? What happened to them?

Naoko didn't realize how much he was shaking until the man crouched down, both hands hanging from his knees. His eyes flickered toward his soldiers, silently dismissing them before turning back to Naoko. "Come on. No need to panic."

He started to reach toward Naoko, when the boy slapped his hand away, the utter confusion draped elegantly across his features. What was he planning on doing?

The leader stared at him for a moment, before sighing, and once again, dragging him onto his feet. "Well, I suppose you'd be a bit anxious. That _was_ wild, wasn't it? This way," he said, as he took Naoko's wrist and led him away from the entrance.

Naoko stumbled down the hill, and from the corner of his eyes, he briefly saw a mirror standing there, leaning against a ruined arch, before turning back, and coming to the encampment.

Rough tents held fast to their openings, and when he drew closer, he saw tiny orbs dangling from the outposts, the finery decorating the otherwise ordinary wood. Racks carried the worn out fabrics, from which the children would play, worming their tiny fingers through the stitches. Tiny squirrels kept scurrying around here and there, some toward the food which dangled deliciously across their faces, others chasing after birds that stole what meager stale bread was left. Drunken laughter poured out from a majority of those tents, the smell of alcohol making no effort to conceal its depression from whoever was around it. Black hung from the adults' arms, the familiar outfits already embedded within Naoko's memory.

Naoko's frightened emotions, however, was replaced by a more subtle, more frustrating confusion, when they all leaned away from him. Mothers would smother their children into their skirts, while gazing happily at him. The terrorists stood attentively, their eyes alert, trying to impress the boy with the extensive training they've put themselves through. When Naoko walked by, he was greeted by shocked stares and mourning gazes. The activity ceased, their own, significant actions replaced by a stranger who just so happened to walk through.

Did he know them?

When Naoko looked ahead, he saw a tent straying far off from the clock, the fragile branches the only thing holding it up. There were men standing near it, holding their rifles casually against their chest, as they conversed with one another, as if what'd happened the past few hours never once taking precedence in their minds. Naoko grimaced then, as he tried tugging away from the leader. The man, however, held stubbornly to Naoko, that same, frigid smile remaining upon his lips.

When they came inside, aside from the mats settled down below, as well as the makeshift table lying in the center of it all, there was nothing here. There was nothing at all that could denote the terrorists' worth. Angry scratches were scattered all over the wooden surfaces, with torn cloth ripped apart at the seams.

Slowly, the man let go, and plopped himself in front of him. He held up his arm, and gestured Naoko to sit as well. Afterwards, he smirked. "My men are outside. Unless Lady Morgan was with you, you doubt you can escape on your own."

Morgan?

Again, he gazed around the tent. His orbs peered through the outside, and stared at the heavily armed men, who looked back at him with a malevolence he couldn't quite grasp. Slowly, he turned back around, and obeyed the terrorist's suggestions. After a few moments of silence, the man nodded awkwardly. "Very good. Again, I apologize for the incident. My men and I would've handled it a bit more cautiously, had not Britannia-"

Naoko cut him off with a piercing glare. _You've killed them._

He closed his eyes. "You're still just as compassionate and naive as you were before, aren't you?"

 _What?_

"But try and understand. What else were we supposed to do? I don't believe the Black Knights would've given you up without a fight."

The confusion etched itself clearly on his face. _Black Knights?_

The terrorist gazed at Naoko for a little, before bitting his lip. Immediately, the man latched his hand onto Naoko's forehead, examining him without the slightest hesitation. Before long, he sighed, letting go of the surprised boy. "What a strong spell. I never would've guessed Morgan would put something as strong as that on you."

 _I don't understand. What-?_

"Tristan," he called.

One of the men guarding the tent came in then. White hair reflected back at Naoko, and along with it, dark blue eyes that took in whatever they could. Though the man had tan skin, for some reason, Naoko couldn't help but see that woman, Lisette, in his appearance. A solemn expression relayed his face the same way it had hers, and it was that tiny aspect that bothered Naoko. Were they always so serious, these youths?

Carefully, the terrorist nodded at toward Tristan, who steadily lowered himself and stared at Naoko for a little. He chuckled. "So that's him? Seems a bit young."

"Can you fix him?"

"The spell's powerful," he answered. "She removed the voice too, for whatever reason." He squinted his eyes, and scrutinized Naoko for a little more. He cursed. "Memories are wiped.

Memories?

Tristan laughed, as he grabbed Naoko's neck, pressing his thumb against his throat. "I didn't think the mistress was capable of that."

"She was only trying to spare him."

Naoko winced then, a precious pain coming back from the depths of his mouth. He could taste a bit of blood, along with a quiet irritation slowly carving its way through the glimpses of pain. He choked, and tried moving away from Tristan, only to be held back down by the soldier's palms. It was then he started to squirm, the searing pain to start jabbing the sides of his cheeks. Air was slowly being squeezed out of his body, the fatigue attacking his muscles relentlessly. He gasped, trying to move away from the man's iron grip. He heard Tristan's tinkering smirk, before he finally let go.

"Huh," he heard the terrorist murmur. "I didn't think it'd be that difficult."

"The curse itself was easy enough to handle. The memories, however-"

Naoko gazed up, clutching his neck, the apprehension beginning to take form. "What are you-?"

He froze.

The terrorist smiled then. "Good. Thank you Tristan. That'll be all."

Obediently, the soldier stood, and left, leaving Naoko with the terrorist.

The boy stared at the man, his hand slowly coming away from his throat. It was strange, hearing his own voice. He's had to rely on facial expressions and gestures for so long, the thought of actually moving his own lips never occurred to him. His hands came to his side then, and he tried again. "What are-?"

"It's fine," the terrorist cut off. "I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself, have I? I am Sirius, the leader of these fine young men."

"Fine?" Naoko whispered softly, jumping to the sound of his own voice. His low, raspy breath kept getting in the way, but he brushed it aside. He took a deep breath. "What were you planning on doing with those people?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "The hostages, you mean? Yes, we all deeply regret the fact that innocent lives were taken. However, their sacrifices were necessary to-"

"To what?" Naoko interrupted, tightly gripping the grass beside him. Fear loosened its grip, anger taking hold of him. "What was so important that they had to die?"

When Sirius didn't answer, he narrowed his eyes. "What are your goal anyways? Are you with Alfheimr? Are you fighting them? What-?"

"No," the man answered. "Our allegiance isn't with those bastards. Lady Euphemia is all we will ever swear loyalty too. That's all."

"Euphemia?"

He blinked. "Euphemia li Britannia, of course. Surely even you must know her. You served under her once."

"B.S," Naoko scowled, a brief image of Kallen's fiery attitude claiming his attention. He remembered reading about the princess from one of the pilot's history books. Dubbed 'Princess Massacre', he couldn't begin to comprehend who would follow someone as cruel as her, as manipulative and utterly _insane_ as her _._ The genocide within the SAZ was enough to testify to that. "She was murdered-"

"Lady Euphemia would never do such a thing." Sirius countered calmly. "That information is false."

He closed his eyes, before staring down Naoko once more. "Under her name, you were the Viceroy to the Unseelie Courts. Lady Morgan lead our armies, and Euphemia was the Queen of our realms. Have you really forgotten those peaceful times?"

He clawed the dirt underneath him. "That's not important-"

Sirius smirked sadly. "So you really have forgotten? Lord Mordred-"

"Naoko." he stated harshly.

"What?"

"It's Naoko." he repeated. "Naoko Kozuki."


	41. Chapter 41

She wore a dark, red sweater, as well as black jeans to match the haunting melody outside. Her bright, crimson hair was brushed down, creating a seemingly neat look that contrasted so very greatly to the torrential chaos swirling in her head of the moments hen she first arrived.

Kallen walked into the restaurant, searching for whomever was left from the busy night. The tiny candlelights from each table gave rise a procession of shadows, for which she callously brushed aside, in favor of the friend sitting at that table, a contemplative look lingering on his face. His once lively eyes were dulled by a masochistic concern for the missing roommate, an eternal frown entwined with those smiling lips. Kallen almost hesitated, but in the end, she came through the room emotionlessly, and sat herself in front of the boy, arms folded.

The two sat in silence for a while, their dark shadows elongated, the details fading with each minute they wasted. She bit the inside of her cheeks then, and turned away. "Rivalz-"

"Who is he?"

She winced. When she didn't answer, Rivalz's grey eyes settled on her reluctant expression, a spark of annoyance slowly making its way through his pupils. "Kallen, if he's got anything to do with this, then-"

"He's innocent," the redhead snapped, her attention twisting back to the owner. She paused for a moment, stiffening at the sudden outburst, before sighing, and looking at her friend with pleading eyes. "Believe me, Rivalz. Naoko has nothing to do with this."

"You're so protective of him though," he inquired. "Is it because he looks like Lelouch?"

"No," she said automatically. "No that…that isn't it at all."

"Even I have a hard time believing that."

"It's true."

He clenched his fists. "On the phone, you said he 'snuck out'. Can't the guy have some wiggle room?"

"It's not that simple-"

"Just because he looks like the guy doesn't mean he is. You should know that, better then anyone," Rivalz stated softly, carefully watching the pilot for her own reactions. It seemed she managed to confirm his suspicions, when that shock, depressive look briefly flashed her expression. "So that's it, huh?"

"What's it?" she asked defensively.

"You're trying…to make up for what happened to Lelouch, aren't you?"

"So what if I am? It's not a crime or anything, right?"

"Actually, it is." Rivalz said with a hard frown, as he placed both elbows on the table. He leaned over, a solemn expression upon his face. "It's called stalking."

* * *

Mournful buds for which the Exelica Gardens sheltered continued blossoming, even amongst winter's fray. Tiny wisps of petals blew from the cold, demonic haze, the withered things having neither the vitality nor the will to continue on with the year. The stone white pillars were yet ever still in the cool loneliness, the pure, radiant surface culminating an isolated light along the sides of the afternoon. Barren trees lay reflected by the dead waters swishing from the pools, the black haze coming away from the ice that had formed around the banks. Snow covered fields contrasted so eagerly with the crimson fruits lying nearby, the small, fragile things ready to burst to the merciless touch of frostbite. Overhead, he could still make out the Palace from the stormy morning, the clouds hanging oppressively over the once vile symbol. The reconstruction seemed to be going well; it won't be long before the towers are finished, from what Cornelia said.

Suzaku sat on the stone steps, eyes closed, small snow flakes descending quietly from the miserable skies. His hands were clasped together, thick, black gloves covering his fingers. A black trench coat shrouded his body from the cold, though his caramel hair remained subject to the zephyrs so jubilantly toying with it. The Zero mask was lying beside him, the hem so drastically enamored with its surroundings. His emerald eyes kept looking around, before resigning themselves to yet another moment of waiting, another stubborn minute of just sitting there, watching as the world around him froze. His brain could practically piece together the loyalties the soldiers declared themselves to be, giving praise to a woman who was already seething with rage at the damage they've caused.

Those were Euphie's men.

Those were her men from the airport jacking. They were the ones responsible for the casualties, for the chaos, for everything they both had to deal with from that day. They were the ones fighting Arthur, and all the same, they were the ones who stole Lelouch away.

As of now, Euphie was busily endeavoring to track them down. It was shocking, how they far they moved away from using her magic as fuel. The Knightmares operated independently, and though they weren't as advanced as Arthur's, the pilots were still able to fend off both the Black Knights and Cornelia, as well as leave behind that gruesome scene for any unfortunate onlookers ahead. The plan was that if she could narrow down the location from which they arrived, as well as the time frame they came through, then it was just as sensible that they try using those methods to get to contact them, and, if at any way possible, get to the Unseelie Courts. Suzaku would have to stay, not only because he was Zero, but because if he wasn't there, there wouldn't be an anchor to for time to flow evenly between the two realms. If she was gone for a mere few days, it was likely that when she returned, a few hundred years would've pass. It didn't help that the flow would be reversed, just because Lady Fate felt like it, nor was the fact that Nunnally was already suspicious a very comforting prospect.

He peered toward the open skies. Lelouch was there as a hostage, but Kallen never tried to intervene. Though the phone call alone was suspect, in the end she did nothing. Who knows? Perhaps if he saw her now, her eyes would be all red and puffy, her voice thick whenever she tried to say something. He couldn't help but wonder what Nunnally would say should she ever see the pilot's misery.

"Suzaku."

He turned, and saw the Britannian Empress standing behind him. Her light, brown hair descended from her shoulders, her amethyst eyes peeking out from the warm, mahogany fur had that snuggly fit her head. She was wearing a pink dress underneath her red coat, with two, fluffy balls sticking out from the collar, and a blue ribbon embroidered at the very top. There was an emotionless frown grazing her lips, and though she seemed a bit paler, he didn't find anything else wrong. She even grew a little taller, if he squinted a tiny bit.

He stood, leaving the Zero mask behind. "Nunna," he greeted. "You've gotten a lot healthier."

The girl nodded. "The maids are really good at cooking, and Ella thinks that in a few more years, I might be able to start military training."

He blinked. "Why would you do that?"

She shrugged. "It was just a suggestion. Besides, piloting Knightmares isn't really my specialty. I prefer a more verbal war zone."

"I see. It suites you," he said, stretching out his hand while ignoring her detached tone. Her tiny fingers trembling in his, Suzaku leads her down the steps. He crouches down, and soon she follows behind. The two sit there, watching the still waters from the shadows underneath.

There was a branch floating in that lake, one of the twigs being stuck to the ice along the shore. Its own silent, ambient noise did nothing for the decadent scene, and though there were tiny silhouettes moving here and there, in the end it was but another object. It was a while before Nunnally spoke once again. "Your eyes are purple."

"It's probably just the light," he dismissed.

"Kind of like Euphie's."

He never turned to her. Rather, he gripped one of his bangs and pushed it over to his left side. His hands fell back in his lap. "That's a good thing then," he answered quietly.

He could feel Nunnally scrutinize him for a little while longer, before returning her gaze to the lake. "Do you remember those maids that terrorist gave me?"

He chuckled lightly. "I do. I hear they're hard workers."

"They are," she replied, a tiny, nostalgic smile adorning her face. "They're hard workers, and they're incredibly fierce. They've helped me quite a bit recently. It's only because of them I managed to figure out the things I did."

He smirked playfully. "Do I even want to know?"

"Suzaku, do you still love Euphie?"

He froze. It took him a bit before he could say…anything. "Where's this coming from?"

"Do you still have those dreams?"

"Nunnally-"

"Suzaku," she pressed then, her own, regal sophistication pouring out from her vulnerable frame. A determined light was slated near her eyes, and her small palms clutched her skirts, painfully creasing the hard fabric to which the warmth embedded itself in.

He couldn't help but ponder on the question, on that simplistic interrogation that shouldn't have taken him as much time as it had. He could still recall their times together, in that wonderful, grassy meadow, the illusion very persistent from the back of his mind. He remembered her sitting there, across from him, that innocent smile draped across that lovely, cheerful expression of hers, as they went about the summer afternoon. There'd be snacks in-between the two, of course, along with some tea he'd no idea had existed until Euphie told him about it. Sometimes, they'd sit there, on that silver table, staring out at the heavenly blue, the tiny, radiant clouds passing by with cool shade underneath the relaxing air. Other times, they'd be out in the meadow, the very same moments reaching out to him breathtakingly. It was during that time that his affections had become something more than just love, or loyalty, or adoration. There was an emotion he believed had linked her to him, and it was that feeling that led him to do what he did. An obsession, perhaps?

But he also remembered the way she destroyed their perfect paradise. The flowers wilted, the streams dried up, revealing the corpses she's manipulated, bodies she's slain over and over again. That meadow was replaced by a helpless desert, their own, beautiful blossoms replaced by a crumbling cliff. He remembered the desperation he felt,when she jumped off, rosette hair flying wildly behind her, the inches of darkness that came within her being. He remembered her utter disgust for him, her cruelty towards her former knight when he tried to intervene. He remembered her overprotective nature, the insanity for which took hold beginning to wrap around Lelouch then, the thorns forcing him to stay by her side, if only to be protected for just a little while longer.

Were those thorns still there, he wondered?

He took a deep breath. "I still love her," he said finally.

"Even if she's dead?"

"Even then," he answered, a slow, steady smile coming across his lips. "It's kind of hard to explain, but there's a time when you're ready to stand by someone you care about. You just…you don't want to let that person go, even if they've already perished somewhere else."

Nunnally peeked out from her hat, her curious eyes becoming a bit more luminous. Her hands were tightly nestled against her chest, as if guarding her own heart from whatever turbulence may come. "You really do love her, don't you?"

"Yes. You'll find someone like that someday Nunna."

She blinked, then turned back. She remained quiet for a while, before inquiring about yet another person. "What about my brother? Is he still your friend?"

He looked up to the skies ahead, the dark clouds hovering over them forebodingly. The Black Knights, the SAZ massacre, the Zero Requiem, and now Arthur…

In the end, it was Lelouch who managed to spiral the whole world out of control. He created the Black Knights for the sole purpose of taking down the Britannian Empire. Even though it was an accident, and she broke free from it in the end, he geassed Euphie into killing all the Japanese. And it was Lelouch who created the Zero Requiem, to wipe away the name of 'Princess Massacre, to bring peace to the world, even when there were others who refused to accept that peace. Millions of people had died just to attain that dream, and their memories were still ingrained in his mind.

He closed his eyes. The relief that coursed through when he found out Euphie was still alive was permanent in his mind. The 'Grand Revival', coined personally by Milly, had brought back the victims from the SAZ Massacre, as well as the Narita Assault. Shirley, her father; they were all there, though half were barely clinging to life as it was. Coffins were dug up, and suddenly, everyone was reuniting with their loved ones, chastising the beloveds for scaring their lovers.

And then there was Lelouch, who had also come back.

 _When is it the right time to be selfish?_

He smiled then. Yes; he remembered it all. "Lelouch is my best friend. You should know that Nunna; there's nothing we can't do if we're together."

"Suzaku?"

He laughed. "What is it now?"

"Thank you."

* * *

Naoko stared back at the reflection in the mirror, his eyes narrowed. His fingers brushed away the dust lingering on the edge, as well as the pieces of grass that quietly came forth from the summer breeze. The makeshift village was there, below him, and in the distance, he could make out the sparring Knightmares hidden behind the clouds. Light shadows kept dancing along the sun's golden rays, the pleasant valleys failing to soothe rough, persistent training sessions.

Children whom he's played with to pass the time were all racing across the fields, the balls in their hands, as they tried imitating the tricks Naoko showed them just a few hours ago. Men and women were scattered all over the encampment, rooster necks in their hands, as they prepared for the day's events, the hearths ready for tonight's dinner. Herbs Naoko's helped gathered hung out on the racks, tiny droplets of water slowly cascading down the leaves from one hour to the next.

It's already been a week since he arrived. Rivalz and Ms. Kozuki must really be worried, not to mention Kallen, who was probably just sitting on the other side, patiently waiting for the chance to scream his head off. By now, the only thing he could actually hope for was that she wouldn't have called the police, though even that seemed impossible. And though the terrorists weren't really bad, at some point he'll know he's overstayed his welcome.

He saw a familiar face walking up from behind, and he turned, staring at Tristan with even eyes. The solider never returned that gaze, and instead, smirked at Naoko's impatience. "Wow. Not a very lively guest, huh?"

"I want to go back."

"Sorry. Until Lord Sirius gives the okay, you can't leave."

"I'm not him."

The tall man laughed heartily, slamming his fists against Naoko's back, causing the boy to jump. The stinging pain remained, so much so he clutched the injury in completely vain efforts to make the sensation disappear. "I see you're still trying to get used to talking. Don't worry; a couple more years and you'll carry on a conversation."

He turned, and took a deep breath. "You're confused. I'm not Mordred."

"Well, unless there's another look-a-like with the exact same curse, which I honestly don't think there is, you're the only one who fits the bill."

Before he could open his mouth, Tristan grabbed his elbow, and proceeded leading him away from the hill. "You know what? You're too serious. Try and relax a little. There's a lot of good food here, and everyone here likes you. You're…really feminine, aren't you?"

Naoko narrowed his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"I am."

Though the man was strong, somehow, the boy managed to worm his way from the soldier's grip, his arm flying wildly to the side before settling down. He opened his mouth, but was cut off by one, single hand. "Tell you what; let's make a deal. You're always staring at the Knightmares, right? You know how to fly one of them?"

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

Tristan chuckled. "If you can beat me in one of those things, I'll personally request Lord Sirius that you leave here immediately."

His eyes widened. "What kind of dumbass deal is that?"

"Ah, so he _can_ speak," he joked. "It's your own fault for picking that fight."

"I-I don't-!"

"Too late. Shots fired." And with that, Tristan strolled away with a pleasant grin on his face, leaving Naoko to his own, unpleasant realizations.


	42. Chapter 42

Euphemia narrowed her eyes, her hands slammed against the conference table, as she examined the procession of documents before her. Graphs kept on with their confusing codes, and sheets of schedules lay plastered before her, the times and dates swirling around her mind like an endless chasm of confusion and insanity, the once clear statements slowly turning to much in her eyes. Her lavender gaze kept track of the security footage in front of her, the screen never once flickering disobediently, nor did the remote sitting beside her have the audacity to malfunction. Scenes from the airport hijacking kept replaying over and over again without her knowing, and when she finally straightens, the mistress enveloping her merciless attention to the mechanized servants in front of her, they recalled the same thing over and over again.

Red circles marred the itineraries for the various flights coming away from the airport, keeping track of any planes that have gone awry. Maps were skewed over with blue marker, the slightest trace of stars and flowers doodled all over the sides. A deep frown caressed her lips, as she looked over the tapes once again, her thumb lingering near the replay button. The seconds passed as quickly as they played, and once again, she stood there, alone in her revelations.

From what she could tell, the soldiers started coming out from the upper balconies. The Knightmares came swarming from the sides. However, the assault had come through just two days after the intruders came to this world. They didn't use Kanime Island, nor did they even hover near the Stonehenge. If they could make a leap as big as that, and if they really were remnants of C.C's army, they might just be rebelling against Arthur after all. That could be one reason why they were after Lelouch.

And if that was their goal from the start, then it'd be too dangerous to use the Gates in the Courts, or even the chapels lingering near Avalon. They would've had to use their own portals, pouring their own emotions together to come across the realms. However, with that bastard's magic reigning over the kingdoms, it'd be incredibly difficult just to squeeze a small squad in. If they could bring an entire army like that, and in one go…

Was it one of the lesser lords?

Her mind kept shifting through the alliances. Queen Mab was certainly a possibility, but from what she remembered from C.C, it seems the girl would more likely provide financial support rather than carry out military operations, and even that was improbable. She was a rather cold monarch, but as long people gave her the slightest illusions of freedom, she was viable to do whatever they asked her to, even if that precious gift never came. She's also wanted a friend, and it was that very weakness which allowed C.C to take control of her. She was innocent and naive, so it wouldn't make sense for her to be fighting from behind the shadows. If anything, she was probably serving as Arthur's concubine, a forced sex slave trapped in her own, delusional hopes.

Luzhin was out of the picture. Lord Drake was strong, but there was no way he could've stood up against Vivien's own spells. He was a proficient warrior and a talented leader, no doubt, but alas, even he would succumb to Arthur's military might. Foster would probably surrender under the false pretenses of saving his own citizens from slaughter, though of course, he was most likely regretting the decision now. The creatures in the forests would be enslaved, and the local militias themselves would be suppressed, replaced by more loyal, disgusting men with too much time on their hands. And even if Titania were still alive, she would've served as a foot stool than a Queen.

That left Lord Sirius of the Wildelands.

Along with Lelouch and C.C, he was perhaps her most trusted ally. She remembered the festivals they've held together, the performances they both gave, if only to strengthen the bond between the two kingdoms. From what she recalled, his lands were situated along the trade routes. Merchants would pass by the villages there, and along with the men she sent to guard the mountain passes, Sirius made an excellent overseer, if only for the tiny, temporal shops settled in his territory. Since he had a majority of the Court's ears, he could relay whatever information there was about Camelot to her in the blink of an eye. He was rough, but all the same, he was kind, compassionate, and cared very deeply for the children residing in his forest.

If memory serves, Lelouch won him over by juggling for a bunch of kids.

She closed her eyes, and leaned back in her seat. He was a good tactician. He knew how to survive in the wilderness, and it was through those instincts he may have been able to save the refugees. Out of all the aristocrats she's met, he was the only one who could actually pull off such a rebellion. It was only he that could carry as much hatred as he had for both Arthur and Titania. It was no wonder then, that the man would want to instigate war with the sinful king. He might know something about C.C.

So the only thing that remained was how he managed to find Lelouch to begin with.

Then again, did it really matter? The Wildelands received a steady flow of Knightmares, just before she and C.C set off to reclaim Arthur. The witch's army would then be able to fall back behind Sirius's protection, then train for the upcoming rebellion. If Lelouch ever recovered his memories there, he'd be sent out to the front lines.

She bit her lip. She sat up then. He'd always beat her in chess, and no matter what she did, no matter what strategy she used, he still came out on top. He served as both Zero and the Demon Emperor, tricking the world into an unstable peace with his own life on the line. He had the mentality to keep up with C.C not as a subordinate, but as an equal, and he served as Viceroy to the Unseelie Courts, even with the restraints Euphemia placed upon him. He was a good pilot, and she's seen him on the battlefield; through Suzaku, she knew he could take down the Ace of the Black Knights, though of course, he'd have a difficult time doing it.

Yet all the same, she needed to get him out of Sirius's hands.

Her mind kept tracing back to that day, when she usurped Arthur's control, the day when she reunited with her brother and met the witch C.C. Arthur was probably so engrossed with the fairy, he even didn't notice C.C and Lelouch slip into the Courts from then. The witch was a slave when she came to the Courts, but even with that simple fact in mind, she couldn't help but notice Arthur's voice when he called out to her. Even when the woman accompanied Euphemia to the dungeon's, he would address them both as Guinevere and Morgan. That would mean she probably has some of Arthur's magic as well, though not nearly as strong to take the king down.

She remembered the presence she sensed back in TU; the unsettling magic alone was so intricate, so complex, that Euphemia couldn't help but feel a bit of familiarity to it. The memory recalled something sinister lingering below the surface. It was uncompromising, unwilling, merciless in every shape and form, but at the same time, there was a quiet, sorrowful madness hovering from near the surface, a silent weeping that adorned itself during the magic's last, pathetic moments. The user was dangling over a cliff.

Was C.C _with_ Arthur then?

Was _she_ playing out the part of Morgan le Fay?

Her fingernails dug into the surface. The asshole stole the Courts, and in it her people and those beloved traditions, sweeping them all up like some ostentatious trophy to show off to his fellow tyrants. He managed to trample over what little pride she had left, and dragged Suzaku into this little niche of chaos. He spirited Lelouch away, along with whatever control she had over her own ignorance. To think he would take a dear friend from her as well…

What destruction had her sadistic lover caused? He destroyed nearly half of Tokyo University, and launched the assault on Vermillion. He also burned down Imperial Palace at Pendragon. Nunnally said the terrorist threatened her, correct? Come on, where was Arthur coming from? There was something there, something she was missing, both she and Suzaku. It wouldn't make sense if she backed down now.

Suzaku correctly guessed Lelouch would be at the airports to pick up Kozuki's mother. That was when the assault happened, meaning C.C's men might have some intel on where Lelouch was staying. The only ones who could've even guessed who Mordred was would either be the girl or her mother, though that might not even be plausible. Lelouch was moved later on, so there could be many more options for when the fairy could've made his move.

"Where are you?"

* * *

Naoko stared up frightfully at the oversized armor, his hands angrily writhing against the sleeves of his sweater for provoking the soldier. The intimidating machine kept glaring at him, the brilliant, crimson eyes staring him down like an insect. The sleek, black coating reflected back Naoko's fear, and at an instant, he could remember Kallen's own, calm attitude, and he couldn't help but marvel at it. He was amazed by her vigilance; after all, how could she _not_ freak out at the mere sight of that thing. It was so big he couldn't even begin to wonder how he was supposed to use the thing.

The cockpit was open, and along with it, a terrorist came crawling out of the Knightmare, his face relieved that the sparring match was over. He stepped on the cable and descended down the machine, yawning lazily, closing his eyes in utter boredom. When he caught sight of Naoko staring at him, he suddenly yelped. He jumped back a few feet, and bowed lowly. "I…I'm terribly-"

The boy started shaking his head profusely. "N-no, it's fine. You don't have to talk to me like that," he interrupted, uncomfortably shifting his weight from one side to the other.

"I…I see." The man laughed awkwardly. "It's funny. I didn't think the Court Jester would be this carefree."

"You've got me mixed up with someone else," Naoko answered, before turning his head back up to the machine. "So…that's a Knightmare…"

The soldier perked up immediately, his beaming smile hurting Naoko's eyes. "Ah! You want to learn?"

"Tristan said that if I beat him, I can leave."

"Tristan huh?" He barked out a harsh chuckle. His shoulders shook, an obvious testament to the relaxing atmosphere Naoko forcefully jammed into the conversation. "Your Highness-"

"Naoko."

"Naoko then. It's best if you quit now. No one's ever managed to beat that monster in combat. I mean, even with Lord Sirius, the quirky little bastard doesn't hold back. And he's the type to rough up the beginners. You won't get any mercy from him."

Naoko stole a glimpse at Tristan now, who was already getting ready for the match. His serious expression returned, and his eyes were completely focused, losing the happy, carefree light he had from just a few hours ago. Determination permeated from his tall frame, and when he met Naoko's eyes, his lips twisted into a feral grin that screamed, _I'm going to kill you._

He hastily turned back to the man. "Can you show me a few tricks?" he pleaded.

"Wow. You're really going through with it, huh?"

"Do I have any other choice?"

"You could hide under a rock, but I doubt that'll do you any good. Here," he continued, grabbing Naoko's shoulders and shoving him toward the cable. The boy stood on the platform then, his golden orbs wandering around the machine's thin, physical aspects. When the terrorist tugged at the cable, Naoko quickly rose from the ground. When the cable stopped, and the boy looked down, the man gestured him inside. Naoko did as he was told.

He peered around the cockpit warily, carefully making his way toward the seat. He jumped slightly when he heard the door close from behind, his legs barely managing to avoid themselves being crushed from the machine's functions. He looked down; the key was still in the ignition. He clutched the side of his seat, and slowly, he grabbed the key, and turned it. He jolted when the Knightmare suddenly came to life.

When the screen flickered on, he saw that same man waving down at him. He was waving his arms around wildly, all the while pushing his thumb downwards. Naoko blinked, before looking at the control panels, and pressed whichever button seemed the most appropriate. The conjecture worked fortunately.

"Can you here me?" he screamed.

"Y-yeah!" Naoko shouted. "Now what?"

"You see those sticks?" he shouts. "You move the Knightmare with them!"

"R-right," he muttered, gipping the controls with both hands. He pushed both forward, and in an instant, the Knightmare stood, its unsteady balance causing Naoko to lean over a tiny bit. He blinked, before looking around the screen.

He's seen this before.

"Good!" the man called. "Now, I want you to-"

Naoko tuned everything the soldier said then. His fingers brushed over the control panel, the weapons system and defense mechanisms suddenly coming on screen. Naoko looked up then, and he narrowed his eyes.

The Samuel.

The name popped from his head out of nowhere. The distant call was mesmerizing, the brand embedded from within the back of his thoughts. He stared off into the nothingness, stroking the panel with a single finger.

The control systems were nothing at all like the Guren's. If he had to guess, it was more complicated, more complex, to the point where only those who have actually trained with the Knightmare for several years could even begin managing it at beginner's level. Perhaps that was why Tristan challenged him to the match in the first place. He figured there was no way Naoko could win. At all.

He took a deep breath, his palms finding themselves on those "sticks" once again.

Who has he helped with this Knightmare?

"Ready?" Tristan shouted, his overconfident voice suddenly grazing Naoko's eardrums. His eyes flickered upwards, and he couldn't help but smile then. It was true; Tristan did seem familiar, and so had Lisette. They were both there, waiting somewhere in the back of his mind, just waiting to be discovered, their arms outstretched.

They were all there.

Naoko took another deep breath, before suppressing that unknown, yet relaxing relief. By then, the man down below was laughing uncontrollably. "Kid, you there? Hello, deadman in my seat?"

He smirked. "I am." he announced. He drew out the Samuel's sword, and regarded Tristan evenly. "I'll wipe that damn smile off your face."

"Whoa," Tristan laughed. "What happened to the pretty boy a few hours ago? You're still shaking, aren't you?"

Naoko stared down at the controls again. Fear had rapidly faded from his body, his own confidence slowly coming through the surface. He was leading people, from the position he was in. He was leading them, but why? What for? Escape? War? Playing around with some other companions he should remember from so very long ago?

He closed his eyes. "Bring it."

* * *

"Kallen, I'm worried about you," Rivalz continued. "Ever since Naoko came to my place, you've been keeping tabs on the guy. The phone calls are becoming more and more excessive; even when you're in India, you're still watching over him."

Kallen gripped her knees. "Rivalz, I know how messed up that sounds, but trust me; it's for the best. And besides," she stated softly, "I'm not _stalking_ the guy. He's just high maintenance, that's all."

"Kallen, Lelouch is _dead,"_ he emphasized, the pain lingering in his tone. "You need to accept that, and let _go._ If you don't, it's gonna end horribly, for both you and Naoko."

She clenched her fists. "Rivalz, there's a lot of bad people out there."

"Then tell me about those 'bad people'!" he suddenly shouted. "If Naoko's really in trouble, then let me help him! That's why you let him stay with me, right? Because something bad's gonna happen?"

She gritted her teeth, and turned away. "That's not something I easily explain."

" _Shirley_ came back, even when everyone thought she was _dead,"_ he hissed. "Even if no one else from the school stood by her, we were all there for her! You, me, Gino, Milly; everyone was there! We were _all_ helping her, even if she was being a little difficult at times. You should know better than that!"

She closed her eyes. What was she supposed to say to him? That she found Naoko locked in a golden cage out in the middle of nowhere? That for some reason, the famous terrorist organization Alfheimr was after him? That he was the reason why TU was attacked in the first place, as well as the airport hijacking? She didn't know what to do, what to say; she had no idea how she could make all of that sound normal.

"They still haven't found him, by the way," Rivalz said after a couple more moments of silence. "Shirley said she might've seen him at the airport, but she lost him in the crowds."

Kallen stared at the restaurant owner. "Shirley?"

"Yeah, Shirley." He settled back in his chair and folded his arms. "You know, our undead friend?"

She slammed her fists on the table then, the sudden realization spread across her face. Rivalz jumped at the enthusiasm, as Kallen began retracing her memories back to when she first found Shirley, of when the girl relayed her own, dark story to the redhead. She stood, and stared down at Rivalz. "Can you call Shirley? Like, right now?"

"W-wha-?"

"I need to ask her something."


	43. Chapter 43

Tristan made the first move.

Naoko blinked, before looking up, the shock embedded in his eyes. He clenched his teeth, before bringing the sword up to defend himself from the onslaught. The familiar sounds of the missiles grazed his ear, and before long, he moved the Knightmare away from the intended sight. He grunted, launching ahead the slash harkens waiting from the Samuel's sides. One of the two missed Tristan, yet the other managed to cling onto the arm, the iron weight bringing the machine toward the center. Naoko smirked then, and thrust the Knightmare toward him without effort.

Tristan ripped away the cables however, and aimed the VARIS toward the boy. He sped out of the way, the maneuverability alone enough to dodge the sadistic bullets following him from behind. He bit his lips. There were five possible routes Tristan could take, and if he decides to fight from the air, Naoko would be at a very big disadvantage. His eyes fell to the fast moving legs from which the Knightmares circled around, and before long, he clashed with Tristan once again.

The sword swung to the left, and Naoko managed to block it with his own, slipping the edge within the Knightmare's palm and removing the weapon altogether. There was another sword barreling down at him, and Naoko barely managed to dodge it. The back; Tristan pulled out that sword from the back, right.

He briefly looked down at the controls, all the while dodging the chaotic swings that the older kept flinging at him. He ripped away the Samuel's skeletal frames, and swung both weapons in the palm of his hands. He steadied himself, as he examined the enemy Knightmare in front of him.

Tristan had no distinct fighting style. Whatever opening Naoko exposed to him, he'll take it, but other than that not much planning went out in dealing the attacks. It seems he cared more about demolishing the enemy rather than planning his own escape routes. Though the soldier seemed to have some experience in the battlefield, at most he sparred with the few who managed to keep up with him so readily. Still, Naoko could tell he was trying to focus his attacks; that much he was doing. Then again, the boy couldn't help but feel a bit insulted.

Tristan rushed in then, both swords in hand, his eyes searching for yet another opening. Naoko pulled the shields from his arms and held his own against the forceful thrust. He dodged another of the VARIS bullets and ducked, swinging the Knightmare's legs outwards, the blades from the legs alone enough to penetrate the enemy Knightmare with ease. However, when Naoko gazed upwards, he saw a sword racing down towards him, threatening to take off the head. He smiled, before grabbing his sword and blocking the upcoming attack. With the other arm, he swung the sword sideways, causing Tristan to jump back, an immediate cautiousness taking form in his moves. "You know how to fight?" he asks, his voice echoing from the air.

Naoko returned that feral smile. "I know the basics."

He paid no attention to the soldiers gather around the match. He never heeded his tutor's advice, nor did he see Sirius from the sidelines, gazing at him with careful eyes. All he could do was focus on the threat in front of him, at the soldier who thought he'd claim an easy victory from the hostage, at the terrorist who believed he was easy prey. That smile faded, and a solemn, subtle look of determination entered Naoko's features, his own, analytical observations growing ever more prominent in his mind.

He could hear the playfulness in Tristan's voice. "Fine then!" he screamed, as he aimed the gun at Naoko once again. He dodged it once more, the bullets flying away from the shields, as he swept down and soared upwards, the Knightmare ready to strike. Tristan narrowly avoided the attack, and swung around, giving distance between he and Naoko. The slash harkens suddenly came forth toward Naoko, one of them managing to hit his swords. The weapon cringed at the seams, breaking apart with one attack, before Naoko grimaced. Quickly, he spun the cable around the sword and planted it to the ground, giving him just a few seconds to close the distance.

Naoko ripped another sword from his back, and aimed steadily for the Knightmare's abdomen. He bit his lip, and utilized the thrusters to speed forward, moving from side to side, trying to dodge the now free Tristan's attacks.

Feathers, he suddenly realized.

There were _feathers_ reigning down on him.

Naoko grimaced, and he stared up, his gaze regarding evenly the Knightmare floating above him. He heard Tristan's joking laughter. "Know the basics huh?" he taunted. "So you're that much of an amateur, Your Majesty?"

"You've got the wrong guy!" he screamed back, readying his swords. He cursed, his eyes fumbling with the controls down below. Energy wings, right? That's what Kallen called them? He had no idea how to activate _any of it_. Aside from the controls, he couldn't comprehend the freedom that grazed the skies. He stared back up, the moments of when he was watching the Knightmares passing through TU instantly swarming his brain.

When he woke up, initially, he couldn't walk. He was always staring out the windows, imagining the places where the onlookers were going, stories they told their friends, realities from which their own, unique personalities were based. He would sit there, on Kallen's bed, looking out the glass, while trying to mentally implement himself in their places. A young student, an aspiring businessman, an elderly grandfather waiting for his children to come home; any of that would've satisfied Naoko, long enough for him to, at the very least, quell his wanderlust.

And when he finally did manage to walk, when he did remove himself from that cage of an apartment, however lovely it was, Naoko couldn't help but still find himself trapped. Kallen was always there, waiting for him with that overprotective grin of hers. She was always calling him from home, making sure he was alright, guarding him even when she was in class. She was always doing whatever she could to keep him in her sight, even if the obsession was a bit extreme at times.

Why, was what he would always ask himself. Even when those Knightmares were flying above him, and he could see the blue skies ahead, and he could feel that crisp, cold air fumbling with his fingers; even when he could move to the sound of his own will, in the end, he was still there, still planted firmly to someone else's will.

That cage. That monstrous, demonic cage suddenly came to view.

He remembered the visitor that always came by. Naoko remembered how the man prodded him, urging him to dance, even though he didn't want to. He remembered the greedy smile he had on his thin lips, how he was always asking for more, even when Naoko refused to do so. He remembered the needles the man kept coming to him with, the drugs that caused him to sink back into that dreamless, eternal slumber, comas that would render him useless for days on end. He remembered the searing pain from his legs, his limbs folded one way, then the next second the other way, if only to listen to his painful cries.

He remembered those torturous, gruesome moments.

But he couldn't remember anything before that.

 _Why?_

Naoko suddenly lunged forward, the brutal pain of the Knightmare's shaking instantly coming to view. His eyes widened, as he stared up at the Tristan once again, who was racing toward him, the blinding gale striking from behind the Knightmare. He grunted, then tried to jump back, readying his sword without hesitation. He took another step back.

And fell.

He could hear the screams from the audience outside, the shocked cries as he fell from the cliffs. The rumbling violently penetrated through Naoko's frame, as he gasped in pain, barely managing to open his own eyes as he tracked the Tristan.

"Mordred!" he screamed.

Naoko, once again, stared at the controls. He could recall the Guren's beautiful wings. He remembered the speeds the Knightmare went, slashing away at the obstacles who dared stand in its way. It was beautiful, the flames decorating the outer rims of the machine. But more than that, the way Kallen handled it all; the stress, the excitement, the utter obliviousness to the restraints society had placed on her. He admired her.

He looked up to her.

His eyes shot open. With the flick of that same, tiny switch, he released the Samuel's wings, and flew throughout the heavenly azure.

The Knightmare circled around back, and with the thrusters, Naoko swung out his sword and aimed for Tristan. The boy could feel the wind behind him, the screeching howls sounding from within the Samuel, as he targeted the soldier right then and there. He stopped when the sword hovering a mere centimeter away from the Knightmare's head.

Silence persisted from the tension, and long before the two had even thought of relaxing. Naoko remained where he was, with that same, focused expression on his face. After a few, tense moments later, he caught sight of the enemy Knightmare backing down. Naoko bit his lip, before following Tristan to the ground submissively.

Yet the excitement never left his veins. Even when he climbed out of the cockpit, Naoko still found himself smiling, at the burst of freedom that came coursing through his veins. Was _this_ what Kallen got to do every day? He swept his bangs from his face, and catching his eyes lingering at the Samuel for a bit longer.

He was greeted by the very same soldier that attempted to talk him out from the match. He kept stammering on and on, accusing Naoko of lying all the while asking where he was taught to fight. Tristan gave a begrudging smile to the boy before shouldering off to the fields. Meanwhile, Naoko saw Sirius approaching him, a confident, prideful smirk embedded on his face. "Was that your first time flying?"

"I…no," Naoko managed. "No, it wasn't. I rode with…with a friend once. She was a really good pilot." The tutor resigned himself then, and left, stomping angrily on the ground, so much so he couldn't help but snicker. Unfortunately, Sirius saw the action, and scoffed.

"I see. In that case, would you like to fight me then?"

He blinked, the excitement instantly drained from his system. "N-no. No, I wouldn't." His arms hung limply at his side then. "Tristan said that if I beat him, he'd talk with you about letting me go."

"Really? You should already know-"

"Please sir," he pressed. "There are people waiting for me back at home."

Sirius paused, the tense quiet coming through the atmosphere. Finally, he placed one hand on Naoko's shoulder. "And what of us? What of them?" he asked, his gaze turning to the still mesmerized audience, adults and children alike. "You should know them by now, right? At the very least-"

"I can't forget the fact that, in the end, you hurt my friends," Naoko interrupted, stepping away from the terrorist. "You murdered countless innocents, and I've no idea how many others you've sacrificed for the sake of your goals."

"You're no better, though, then the rest of us."

"I've never killed anyone."

"You've really forgotten then, have you?" He took a deep breath then, and shook his head. "No, that's fine. You're a kindhearted sinner. How painfully ironic."

Before Naoko could ask what the terrorist meant, piercing screams sounded from the tents.

And when he turned, he saw Alfheimr, looking ahead at its next target.

* * *

Morgan stared down at the massacre, her hands clutching her sketchpad, as one by one, the Knightmares began eliminating the refugees. Some she recognized, old, impoverished men who once owned their own, pure businesses, old priests who flung themselves in front of the people listening to them, mothers and fathers defending their families, all the while begging fro their own, pitiful lives. There they all were, trying to hopelessly grasp to life while saving their loved ones, while strangers tossed up the weakened, shoving them away, their feet running along beside them. It made no difference, when the chaos mines were implemented.

The witch was there, in the middle of it all, the blurs of shapes coming away from the scene. The hazy lines masked the guilt, though in the end, that very same remorse bubbled up from her heart, her conscience wrapped in torment and suffering. Dirt nor mud reached the hem of her thick, black dress, the leaves and trash for which the residents threw down not even daring to come near her elegance. Her hair whipped away from the scrambling onlookers, the climax of the killings there, ready and waiting for the next showing.

She placed the sketchpad in her arms, the trembling pencil on the surface, as she kept on walking along the crimson garden. Faint traces of blood touched her nostrils, and moans pierced the air around her as she kept onwards. Bodies fell left from right, while demonic Knightmares raced ahead of her, doing whatever they could to see the sins from before sprouting out into an abyss of terror, a tragedy blatantly shown in this sworn, wasted refuge. This was where Mordred would be, right? Arthur said so. And Lisette was somewhere here, entwined in this cold, shimmering mess of fate.

She looked down at her sketchpad, the blurry lines taking for of neither fairy nor gnome nor pixie nor anything else that could have possibly existed in this world. There was no discoverable object here, aside from the skulls that dotted the corners. And when she looked up, that same scene greeted her, the same lines blurring of reality from fiction. Decorum meant nothing in a moment like this, where the wild promises of mercy and kindness shattered in one, tiny go. Torn rags flew from the tents, revealing the bodies stuffed inside. Look, there was a family. There was a family, and a couple, and some pets.

She froze, the sketchpad and pencil slipping from her grasp.

Tiny hands reached out to her for mercy, only to be slaughtered by the very soldiers who were sent to guard her. From above, the resistance groups were putting up a fight, though in the end, the bloodshed had extended to the menacing heroes, all of which provided a means for escape for the refugees at hand. Ignorance was blissfully murdered, the crimson spouting from the already broken hearts taking form. For the survivors, she could see their once warm hearths now desecrated by the intruders, desolated not by their own natures, or the enemy, but rather, by their dying beloveds, who were all so very cruel to leave them. She saw their black veins sprouting from their memories, their once gentle touches wrapping under a light of cool nightmares and wishful thinking, their lusts bending away from their once dreamlike youth.

This was cruel.

This was unbearably, horribly cruel.

Yet what was even crueler was the fact that, as she kept walking, kept searching for that specific scene the king was looking for, she caught sight of a young man, standing before her, staring at her with that same, empty look in his eyes.

It was strange, how familiar he seemed. Dark, brown hair grazed the wind's sorrow with an even heavier burden the bangs seemed entwined in. A golden eye pierced his left eyes. In his right was an amethyst orb, reflecting back to her the same shade her own eyes were. He was tall, from what she could tell. He was tall, and graceless, yet loving all the same. And he stood there, amidst the chaos, staring at her, with that same, aimless expression that boy from her dreams held to.

He took one, tiny step closer then, the grief slowly beginning to entwine with recognition. "C.C?"

And in that second, he faded away, disintegrating through the air, carrying away that lovely, ethereal beauty along with him.


	44. Chapter 44

"There has been no suspicious activity from the Black Knights."

"What of Schniezel and Cornelia?"

"None."

Nunnally nodded as she sat at her desk, twirling the pen in her delicate fingers. She watched the maid scurry off happily, once again, bragging to the curious eavesdroppers outside of just how wonderful Nunnally had praised her. The exaggeration was so flawed not even her companions had an easy time believing the woman in question, though they made no other attempt to pry.

Nunnally's right fingers drummed at the edge of the chessboard, her eyes making out the black and white tiles that so neatly laid out the enemy's motives in front of her. She was there, in that seat, steadily making way for a countless number of plans, techniques she could use whenever a dissent happened from the projected course. Her hair was tied back in a neat, french bun, and while she was in that pink dress, the Empress no longer carried that innocent, naive face she usually would show to the public, her own, regal disposition settling from within the atmosphere around her.

There was nothing that could've possibly hoped to describe the emotions Nunnally felt when those maids showed her the picture of her beloved, supposedly dead siblings, nothing at all that could convey the feelings that poured out from the depths of her own heart that day. No matter what she did, she just couldn't forget the confusion, the relief, the anger that was associated with such deception. Nunnally stood frozen in place, her own pulse pounding from the edge of her ears, as she gazed up at their wonderful, innocent faces, long before they've even come across a tragedy called life. There they were, in all their majesty, doing whatever they could to hold onto that childlike innocence everyone kept on asking about. There they were, naive and blissful, ignorant and hopeful, never once beginning to indulge in the truths known as war, chaos, sadness…

Yet in those feelings, Nunnally was relieved. Though frustration boiled from deep inside her chest, and she felt like doubling over, knowing full well what would've happened had the two royals been discovered alive, all the same, she was content. As much as she hated to admit it, she was happy. Yes, she was angry, that they concealed their existence, that Suzaku helped them, that the chaos they tried to limit had ended up throwing its ugly presence into this supposed era as well, but all the same, she was happy. The shame she felt for this world erased itself from her features a split moment after she found that painting, and was replaced by a determined light that may have very well sparked from Lelouch's own leadership skills.

And she took pride in that one fact. She really did.

She closed her eyes. Suzaku's words still came through to her that snowy day. He really did love them both, no matter what they did to hurt them, no matter what lies they've told them. Of course, she could've done without him relaying those same skills with the effortless grace he learned from Lelouch, as well as the isolation she felt when she realized she could never be apart of that certain, beautiful depth which came along with residing underneath the thorns of the Britannian Empress. No, she's never had to experience that corruption. She's never had to do any of it at all, if only through her brother's reassurance, her friend's will, her sister's kindness.

So what now?

Nunnally narrowed her eyes, her thumb, once again on the king's space, the remainder of her fingers stretched around the pawn. The very thought of gaining those four queens still kept rummaging through her mind, though by now, she knew better than to expect anything as convenient as that. She didn't know if she still had Kallen's loyalty anymore, considering how far Suzaku went to try and keep the redhead from her. The very fact that Lelouch was with Kallen in TU was suspicious enough. It was possible that the Guren might've taken him away from the disaster; after all, it was very unlikely her brother would've gotten any other willing hand from anyone else. Though initially, Nunnally was incredibly hesitant to think of that prospect, by now she knew that was what had happened, considering how Lelouch showed up again, this time at an international airport.

But who were they? Jeanette did say that the Knightmares seemed familiar, that they were from of Euphie's army. Were they resisting against Arthur's reign? If they were, was that why they needed her brother? Was he leading them?

Then why would he be there, of all places? Lelouch knew better than to go to a damn airport, especially since he still carried the sullied title of the Demon Emperor. He didn't do anything at all to conceal his identity, aside from the golden contact lenses he carried now, and even that had no place in the amateurish world of disguise. But he was just as panicked as everyone else; albeit calmer, he must've been frightened, scared, if he could run off like that.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Lord Mordred li Britannia; that was what both her maids and the terrorist called him. If Alfheimr was that desperate to get their hands on him, then there was absolutely no way he could play the pawn; it's just too difficult to conceal him amongst all those soldiers, and perhaps that might be what Alfheimr wants. A rook then? Perhaps a bishop? How about a knight? Should she even involve him at all?

Her lavender eyes flickered toward the now empty room, the soft, footsteps of the bustling maids outside the door already in motion. There was also Suzaku to consider, but she'd already resolved not involving him. He shouldn't have to do any of this, if he meant what he said that day. Still, that didn't exempt him from the fact that he could have crucial information about the terrorist organization. If that was the case, then she might be able to sneak a few of her maids into the Black Knights without being caught. Sayako might help if she asked.

But the risks of being caught kept weighing down on her, from losing a very, very important ally and friend, to ruining her own reputation, with accusations of being a hypocrite and reclaiming the old regime circling around her head so very unpleasantly. Britannia's image will suffer, and it'd take decades for Britannia to rebuild its image again; even then the stain will always be there. Besides, she doubted Sayako would help her with something as tremendous as this, since of course, she served both Nunnally _and_ Zero. Prime Minister Oghi wouldn't have made a good choice, simply because he'd give away Nunnally's intentions, and make a bigger fool of himself than Arthur will have. Kaguya and Tianzi weren't even aware of the situation, aside from the fact that the Demon incarnate was running loose, causing violence and turmoil wherever he went (they laughed, of course).

What of Schniezel then? If Nunnally played her cards right, she could easily make her older brother tell her of Suzaku's activities, no matter how he'd try to avoid her. Cornelia was in a position to defend against Alfheimr, since they kept coming to Japan, as well as to launch a counterattack. She could watch over the Black Knights, and see if any strange movement had been made, anything at all that might pertain to the answer to this horrendous dream. And with her own maids intact, Nunnally could very well reach out and try to see where Alfheimr will strike next, based on the women's predictions and their own takes on Arthur's behavior.

Nunnally smirked; how very odd. It seems she was going to have to wait for Arthur to make the first move. She didn't think playing the Black King would be this hard, or frustrating, or boring.

She heard that long-awaited knock on her door, and she looked up. "Come in."

With that, Ella made her powerful, sophisticated demeanor known. She walked up toward Nunnally's desk with that same, determined look in her eyes. Nunnally settled back in her seat, and folded her hands on her small, yet stable lap. She smiled. "Thank you for coming sister."

The woman blinked. "Well, aside from that little excursion the other day, I didn't think you'd need me to be escorting you elsewhere."

"I apologize for that, by the way," she giggled in her normal, childish facade. "It seems I've caused you a lot of trouble for doing that. Moreover, how are things in Japan?"

"You know as well as I do Nunna," she answered. "Right now, my knights are doing everything they can to find the terrorists. We're scouring the country looking for them, and we've gotten permission from both the UFN and the Chinese Federation to search on their grounds. However, those leads haven't been fruitful."

"Have you checked Kamine Island?"

"Troops are already stationed there. No one can get in or out without our knowing."

"I see. And what of Kozuki? Has her mother returned?"

"Yes. She wasn't at all involved with the terrorist attack."

Nunnally smiled. "Sorry Ella. But I might need another escort somewhere." she said then, the world her maids spoke of still very much in her mind.

* * *

Kallen tapped her fingers on the surface, her eyes closed, as Rivalz gazed at her stubbornly, that same, confused look dotting his eyes. Her crimson bangs spilled in front of her face, her leg moving to its own, erratic, rhythmic beat. A slight frown tugged at her lips, the pilot waiting anxiously with each ring.

There was no way Shirley could be that busy; though she was preparing for the spring showcase, and the fact she had a big project due by the time she got back alone to put the girl on edge, Shirley still had a couple of days left before she actually had to work. It wasn't like she's looking forward to anything at the moment.

"Rivalz?" Kallen heard in that calm disposition she saw Shirley leave with.

Kallen held her breath. "No. It's me."

"Kallen!" she shouted happily. "Is Rivalz there? Tell him I can't come today, but I can do it tomorrow! A lot of people are wondering about the food-"

"Do you remember what you told me?" Kallen interrupted. "You know, when Alfheimr attacked the school?"

There was a silent, tentative pause from the other side. She could practically feel all the mirth Shirley held from before being reduced to little more than an insignificant fray amidst the painful memories. She heard some rustling from the background, and before long, Shirley came back, the perseverance so readily evident in her tone. "Why? Did something happen?"

"I saw you, on the news," she answered silently. "You, and those Black Knightmares. I'm glad you're okay, by the way."

"Y-yeah. Pretty crazy stuff."

Kallen narrowed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "By any chance, did you see someone who looked like Lelouch there?"

Immediately, a loud _clank_ sounded from the other end. Kallen flinched at the noise, as Shirley bent down hastily to pick up the phone. She put the device on her ear again, the awkward silence breaking away little by little. "Is he involved?"

"No." she stated defensively. Kallen looked up at Rivalz then, before resuming her calm behavior. "I'm sorry, about all of this."

She laughed then. "What'd you mean? Come on; don't blame yourself. It's not like you could just suddenly fly back to Japan, right?"

"Actually…I wanted to ask you about that time, when you were still with Arthur."

"Kallen, what-?"

"Did you see anyone who looked like Lelouch?"

Shirley thought for a moment, even within the shocking present that Kallen bombarded her with. After a few seconds of agonizing reminiscing, Shirley answered, "No."

"Stop lying."

"W-what?"

Kallen pressed the cellphone against her ears, as she turned back to Rivalz. "Before you lie, you always pause." She sighed. "I know this is hard, but you need to be honest. A lot of people are going to get hurt if you don't come clean."

"I told you everything, didn't I?" Shirley suddenly shouted. "Zero's already got the story! If you're that desperate, then why don't you do something about it?!"

Kallen stopped. She gripped her fingernails on the surface then, and before Shirley could hang up, she asked, "How'd you get out?"

It took some time, but slowly, she could hear the phone resting on Shirley's palm, her soft, mourning features already shown within Kallen's mind. "How'd…how'd I-?"

"You came back to us," Kallen continued. "We all thought you were dead, but you still came back. What happened?"

A slow, silent breath drew out from Shirley's chest, and for a while, they both lay silent, the line claiming whatever attention they had from that point on. Finally, the girl answered. "There was a girl named Euphie. She helped me get out."

"Was there anyone else with her?"

"Y-yeah," she said hesitantly. "I think he was with her. I mean, it was such a long time ago. He got us all out, and…and when I told him about Euphie, he went back for her. I never saw him again…at least until-"

"Until the airport jacking, right?"

All the while, Rivalz sat there, his eyes wide with shock, as he tried keeping up with the conversation for which only the girls could've possibly have been involved with. "Right. But he had gold eyes, though, and he wasn't at all like Lulu…"

Kallen nodded then. "When you were still there, in that…place, was there ever a golden cage?"

Shirley seemed a bit surprised at the conjecture. "Not that I could remember."

Rivalz narrowed his eyes. "Kallen, stop messing around-"

"Hold on," the pilot said, her azure eyes silencing the blue haired boy, as she returned to the conversation at hand. "Do you know anyone named Mordred?"

"I don't."

"You've never heard that name?"

"No," Shirley said suspiciously. "Is that his name? Mordred?"

"No, it's not." Kallen stared off at the empty space beside her. "Shirley, that man who helped you and your dad. Did he have golden eyes?"

"He didn't. They were purple."

* * *

He was in that ballroom again, his hands to his sides, as he watched the burning stars from above pass on by, their fragile balance moving onwards throughout the massacre, the morbid loneliness forever entwined by their own, hideous light. His bangs hung limply against his eyes, the reflection from the floors muddling the rest of his appearance. He watched, as slowly, bit by bit, that beloved dream crumbling to bits of stray delusions and heartbreak, the tiny pieces of ashes removing themselves from his sight.

The precious floors he once danced on rusting away, replaced by cobwebs and molds that were otherwise falling from the seams. The sleek, grand piano which carried off his favorite poems and lyrics were floating away, the ivory keys now turning a thick yellow that neither he nor his partner would've wanted to touch. Violin strings were being ripped apart, stolen away by the heathen shadows, whose claws kept on tearing away the helpless, trivial object, now lying desolate from the rest of its ostentatious vanity. The golden harp he used to walk around was now being taken away by the very same sins which coated his own nightmares, the soft, tinkering lullabies that once refreshingly washed his ears lay wasted along the floors, the cacophony doing little to soothe his own, sorrowful frustrations.

Outside the windows, withered leaves kept rapping away at the panes, the harsh gales outside slowly cornering the once strong, prideful, elegant glass. Silk curtains were starting to melt away from the sights, the forceful winds managing to worm their way through the dreamlike atmosphere. From above, he saw the fiery starlight ahead being draped in hellfire, as, one by one, they began falling away, the silent weeping beginning to take hold of those final, precious moments. The chandeliers shook from the destruction, demonic rage flying above his head like an unwanted lust, a forgotten enemy that was about to be forsaken, and yet had no intention of being forgotten. Small, stray specks of darkness dotted the surroundings here and there, and from the distance, he could see the shadows swarming over this once sanctified place, his eyes neither taking care nor removing the threat altogether.

His attention was only for the woman standing in front of him.

Her bright, green hair cascaded from her white dress, her flawless skin radiating even among the illusion. But he couldn't see her own pupils, her orbs meeting his in that prideful way they once did. Her lips were closed, the silence never once making any endeavor to pretend there was any chance the lie could keep moving, keep up its pathetic but wonderful act. The sounds grew louder, the chaos more turbulent, but she remained where she was, standing there, allowing time to flow freely from her, taking whatever life she possessed without giving her death, an array of despair fostering in her soul, though she retained her earthly beauty. There she was, in all her glory, staying there like a mere intruder in someone else's dream, a mistake that was never supposed to have been birthed.

He took one step forward, and took her hand. "Sing."

Slowly, she shook her head.

"It's all still here."

She turned away.

He straightened himself, and stole a gaze at the now nonexistent instruments that used to lay on the ground. Music sheets were scattered everywhere, the frustrated scribbles now donned in black blobs, all of which gave into a deep wound, one neither knew had even existed. He turned his attention to the woman. "It's your dream, isn't it?" he urged gently. "You don't have to wake up yet."

She remained as she was.

"Then look," he said, gesturing his eyes out to the despair around them. "At the very least, you could see what's happening around you." He closed his eyes, and plastered that smile on his face, along with the lie bubbling toward the edge of his lips. "It's all beautiful. You could write a whole symphony out of this."

Carefully, he maneuvered her away from the middle of the ballroom. He was so wrapped up in that hope of another performance, that one wish if only to listen to her again, that he never felt her decadent shadow turning away from him. He never felt her own grip slip out of his, nor did he hear that agonizing, soft farewell, to which she allowed her own dream to fall apart, within the fray.

When he woke up, he was crying.


	45. Chapter 45

He gazed around the remnants of the empty, desolate place, the tall, construction sites soaring overhead. Thin, iron beams replaced the more completed labyrinth, to which even the drills and shovels could enter the sacred chapels, and wooden planks carried hammers that kept on with their normal, stable life. Nails lay mere inches away from him, the abandoned scraps of metal lying far off in the darkness, wasting within the midnight rust. Yellow helmets were scattered here and there, and the dust the boy was lying in seemed all too comfortable with the arrangement, the footprints fading slightly from with winter breeze. Shadows circled around him, with a dim, orange light surrounded by fits of laughter and worldly relief. There he sat, mesmerized by the time that passed him by, the archaic nights slowly starting to come to an end.

Carefully, he wiped away the salty streaks, the remaining pieces that the now forgotten dream lying within the depths of his mind. His hand came back down to his side, with the tiny rocks piercing his palm. Finally, he stood, and slowly moved as to not make a single sound. His footsteps neither resounded nor echoed from the floors as they usually would, and the painful reminder of what had happened suddenly took hold in his memories.

The terrorists were dead.

Calmly, he took in the surrounding environment. Colorful signs that kept on with their dark, ominous warmth were plastered throughout the walls, and ruined banners were splayed throughout the floors, the heartless night gaining entrance to the cool indifference within the nostalgic words. Uncaring wounds decorated the crumbling site, and through the somewhat medieval, ancient maze, he stayed there, knowing full well that this was what was left of that airport.

That's right. Ms. Kozuki was supposed to have arrived, but she didn't. Her flight was running late. That man, Lord Sirius, showed up and took everyone hostage. He killed so many people, that terrorist, and yet in the end, the objective wasn't made clear as to who he wanted, or at the very least, from the entire world's perspective. Kallen must be furious by now, as is Rivalz, and Milly, and even that orange-haired girl, who greeted him in the strangest of ways. Zero must be taking a beating right now, as was the Empress, who, from the reporters' eyes, allowed the terrorist to slip away once again.

As he walked through the placid building, the tiny traces of bloodstains left from the surrounding areas, he couldn't help but recall that beautiful place, the one in the meadows, the one that he was always running across. He remembered those soldiers, the terrorists who kept joking with him, playing with him, bowing to him with the upmost respect, albeit a hint of fear entrenched in their bones. Children were dancing around him as they would, and though he was sure the adults would've joined the jubilant mirth as well, they could only keep their distance, watching him with suspicious eyes. Yes, though the adults were…perhaps the most natural, of all of them, but he could feel a strange disappointment move from his gut, his instincts screaming at the mothers and fathers and uncles and aunts to wake up. He wasn't going to harm anyone. He just showed up there, like they most likely did, taking refuge to a storm that was already barreling down towards him.

And he couldn't help but wonder if it was all a dream then, just like that woman haunting him so very easily.

He stopped when he came to the unharmed section of the airport. Though his bangs kept getting in the way, he could make out the crisp, neat organization to which the other parts of the airports remained untouched. Cool, steel arches gazed down at him, the holiday decorations that once gave such a vibrant life to the business now gone in the fray. Tiny Christmas trees remained where they were, though lights gave way to a silent darkness that was wrapping itself around such an innocent time. Hot chocolate cups were splattered all over the ground, the frantic movements from the brown stains nearby a testament to the chaos the supposedly relaxing time should have caused. Benches were cast asunder, their function now an obstruction for the people trying to make it to safety.

He walked over to one spot, and stood where he was, the railing very much in his grip. He was standing right here when they came, when Lord Sirius came. That girl approached him just a few moments before. She called him "Lulu". What an odd nickname for a person such as the Demon Emperor, though in hindsight, it was also clever, and obnoxiously cute. He wouldn't have minded, of course.

As he kept on, glass shards shattering from beneath his feet, the harsh dirges drifted avariciously through the missing corridors, claiming whatever warmth was left on his skin. After a few more minutes of aimless wandering, his eyes blinked curiously at the new skylights ahead. And like a moth, he went toward the attractive scene, admiring but never touching the hypnotic flame ahead.

Funny; Kallen would've never allowed him to do such a thing. She would've pulled him back the very moment his legs started dangling over the edge. Would she have restrained him if he kept going up there, tie him to her bed like she threatened to do so many times before? That same protectiveness continued its tyrannical relief, as he crept closer and closer to the broken windows, the sights from below instantly greeting him with its intimate lights.

A shimmering sea lay across the dark horizon, the small, golden lights sprinkled across the remaining buildings. Skyscrapers soared through the clouds, the wide buildings never giving into that natural erosion the other withering societies seemed to suffer from. The offices where empty lamps allegedly dwelled were filled with scandalous hearths, precious moments that could vanish the second the lovers inside turned away. One helicopter hovered near the bright streams, possibly trying to film Japan during Christmastide, before showing off the happiness to Britannia, to the Chinese Federation, to anyone who would listen. Flags from across the world tore through the skies, the already mesmerized shadows beginning to take hold of their cooperative elegance. If he squinted, he could even make out the grand Christmas tree standing there, with that big star attached on the top. He could imagine the couples and friends and families standing there, taking pictures of themselves near the delicate, sturdy structure. Laughter filled the air, cheerfulness so contagious even the most lonely of creatures couldn't help but be touched by it.

All things considered, he never saw the former Area 11 in such a light. If anything, he was always too busy dealing with one thing or another, from helping Rivalz in his restaurant to hiding from Kallen to even shopping with Ms. Kozuki. Though he managed to find some small comfort in scrutinizing all those little, meticulous details which dotted across the marketplaces, in the end it wasn't enough to satisfy his curiosity. He never experienced such a thing when he was still at that castle, nor did he find any pleasure in the lusts that greeted him, save for that one, tiny glimpse of warmth that would always come forward so. But even then, that light was filled with manifestations of sorrow, of greed, of pride, and the sounds he would always hear came to greet him like an agonized, nightmarish scream in the middle of the night.

He stared at the scene for another moment, before leaning against the wall and sinking down to the ground, his fingers slightly touching the broken shards. His cheek rested against the frame, his hair falling fragilely toward his pale skin.

Kallen found him. She found him lying in a golden cage somewhere. She and her mother took him in, and they did everything they could to protect him, to make him feel like family. He never pressed for the details in their lives, never bothered to ask why they named him as they did, why, whenever he caught them somewhere, alone in that hazy, comfortable place of theirs, sorrow grazed their features by the very mention of those names, both his and Lelouch's.

Slowly, his eyes flickered toward his own reflection. A deep pain flowed through his body, though it wasn't the same pain as before. It wasn't a pain that would make him want to shut himself away from the reality it came from, nor was it a sensation he would eagerly welcome, if only for obvious reasons. For some reason, his tormentor carried that same expression, the same frown caressing his features, the quiet, melancholy taking subtle form throughout the air. He was a monster, no doubt, but though his heart stopped beating long ago, and the people around him seemed to shrink away from that disgusting exterior, all the same, he was living.

What was Naoko like? Was he friendly around Kallen, and Rivalz, and Gino? How about Milly? What'd she think of him? And the customers at the restaurant? The critic? Ms. Kozuki? The neighbors? What'd all of them think, despite the unsettling similarities he had with Lelouch vi Britannia? Did they see anything more, other than their dead friend? Did they see a weary stranger they would've met from down the road, and take him in if only for the goodness in their hearts, the pity they felt for him? Was there any place for him to begin with, the comparisons made between him and a dead person? Did he serve as a troubling ghost in their eyes, or was he something else, a lost connection they could only hope to cling to just before he too, disappeared?

Slowly, he picked up one of the glass shards and examined it, the sharp edges cutting his hand with one, cold touch. That woman kept coming back to his mind, even before this all happened. Those past dreams, in a ballroom where the two of them danced; at times it seemed like the only refuge he could possibly have taken hold, in this turbulent life of his. That meadow, however strange the experience was, crept up toward him like an pleasant, bittersweet illusion. Though he was always thinking of getting back to reality, always looking at that mirror for a desperate way back home, with the same longing practically everyone else had carried with them, it all felt so comfortable to him. And what of Lisette? What of Tristan, and Sirius?

Euphemia li Britannia. She ruled those lands, didn't she? She ruled them, and from what he could tell, everyone loved her for it. There were times when he would pass through those tents and hear those people singing her praises, recalling the happier times he was only starting to vaguely remember. And there was another one Sirius mentioned, Lady Morgan. He couldn't help but wonder who she was, in the midst of all of this. He couldn't help but ponder on what she was doing right now, if she was still with her Queen.

The terrorists kept addressing him as Lord Mordred.

The agony that suddenly took hold that dream, twisting it into an inconceivable nightmare wrapped around his throat. Those tiny children, shot before his eyes, and their own, wry protectors have gone before them, away from the crimson battlefield that took its place so early in their youth. Soldiers were screaming, Knightmares were being destroyed, and the entire meadow was desecrated. He was walking through the tents, walking through the destruction, his senses already willing themselves away from the scenes altogether. He was there, when he saw that woman in front of him, appearing as shocked as he was.

That beloved person was there, a mere reflection of herself from the dreams she's thoughtlessly held. Black replaced white, a despairing sob from the tiny, joyous tunes she'd caress from her own lips, and amethyst rather than golden orbs. She was holding a sketchpad in her arms, and a charcoal pencil that wanted to be anywhere else but there, at that place, at that time. Her hair flayed wildly from beyond the sadness, the fairylike jewels she used to possess now a ragged bloodstone from which all the victims had fallen before her.

He called her C.C.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of the same, tainted illumination he'd said from that night. Mirrors stared after him, his own reflection mixing towards that same corruption the woman had found herself in. He placed the shard high above his head, and stared at it for a while, a distant memory playing forth the lullabies that precious person once sang.

C.C.

He once prayed for C.C.

* * *

Morgan came toward the center, eyes down, ignoring all the snickers sounding from across the throne rooms. She had no canvases in her arms, no pencils twirling along the edge of her fingers. Her skin, for once, was flawless, released from the paints that usually entwined itself on the side of her palms. Her own, silent footsteps were soon covered by the prideful gossip that carried on behind her, never minding the etiquette the aristocrats would usually have in front of the king.

She stopped a few yards away from the throne. She bowed, her hands neatly placed her front of her. "Your Majesty," she murmured.

"Come here," he ordered. She bit the inside of her cheek. She clenched her fists, but all the same, she obeyed. She's only been here for a mere minute, and already her subdued pride was struggling to break free from the reigns. However, she continued on with her barely submissive demeanor, and found herself standing beside the throne, with Arthur's amused glare winding her down.

He smirked, before turning away. Morgan never bothered to look up, her gaze firmly planted on the ground, on the floors that housed a countless number of victims from within those bodies they once called fairy.

And then he laughed.

He laughed and laughed and laughed. The nobles all joined in, as did the servants, and a few of the knights. Their hideous smiles revealed their diseased morals, the decaying attitudes from which the decadent courts housed now removed from what little dignity they had left. There was nary a wanderer left in the castle, a stray who couldn't even grasp the concept of what was humorous and what wasn't. The entire display was so pathetic Morgan had to resist flinching, all the while maintaining her cold demeanor among the people standing before her.

"Bring her in!" Arthur finally screamed.

It was only then Morgan did look up.

Her white, bloody curls were tangled in the executioner's black gloves. Her fiery blue eyes kept staring up at the tormentor confusingly, all the while attempting to proclaim her innocence. Cold, fearful sweat cascaded down her naked body, and shackles decorated her ankles, the cruel iron scratching away tiny bits of skin and blood. Bruises marred her beautiful skin, along with grotesque wounds that might as well have been a result of assault, both male and female. Greedy scratches marred her thighs, and when she was dragged into the room, the bleeding still commenced, a trail of crimson coming through the throne room.

Lisette.

Morgan's eyes widened alarmingly. Outrage poured into her system, as she took a threatening step toward the executioner. Her hand was raised, and she was about to send the man away when Arthur grabbed her wrist. "Thank you, good sir," the king said cruelly. "You can leave the traitor there."

Traitor?

Angrily, Morgan spun toward Arthur. "What's the _meaning_ of this?" she hissed. "What'd you do to my knight?!"

Arthur stood and forced Morgan behind him. Slowly, he descended from his throne, and came toward the shivering girl, who was, as of this point, staring at her king with an empty, albeit terrified state. He stopped then, a few feet away from the girl, before saying, "You know why you're here."

"Please!" Lisette suddenly shouted. "I didn't do anything! Your Majesty, you know-!"

"Enough," Arthur dismissed. "Read the charges."

Morgan came from the steps, her fists clenched, her eyes filled with that murderous light. "Arthur-!"

Just as quickly as she moved, Morgan was held back, this time by Taliesin. His hands held her arms down, as he thrust her to the throne. He quickly maneuvered himself from behind, pressing his palms against her shoulders. He leaned in. "What a fuss you're making," he muttered hatefully, his rancid, alcoholic breath washing over her unpleasantly, "and over one little servant girl."

Morgan hastily turned toward the fairy. "That _servant_ could easily-!"

"Lisette le Fay," one of the aristocrats began, making his way toward the grimacing soldier. His hands were neatly placed behind his back, his own, sleek hair reflecting the callous mercilessness the lord housed from inside his body. "You yourself are charged with treason against the High King, as well as against Camelot and the Unseelie Courts."

"How?!" the girl suddenly shouted. Her head twisted cruelly. "You were all there! You all saw me! I have nothing to do with the resistance groups!"

"By aiding the vagabonds and churches with food and shelter," the lord continued cockily, "you are hereby sentenced. Give it up girl. We all know you're guilty."

"That's a damn lie!" Lisette growled. She looked up to Arthur then, with those same, candid, honest gaze she gave whenever she professed her own, genuine innocence. "You've got to believe me! I never did any of it!"

Morgan was about to testify, when Taliesin's dirt ridden palm suddenly came around it, the faintest scent of blood a result from his latest victim. When no one else answered, Lisette clenched her teeth. She took a deep breath.

"I am the commander of Lady Morgan's entire army. I served the aristocracy and monarchy dutifully, and I never allowed personal feelings to cloud my judgements. I followed every order, and did as I was commanded without the slightest hesitation. The accusations laid out before me are false."

Her plea fell on deaf ears when the witch watched as Arthur crouched down, if only to examine the wounds on her thighs. His lustful eyes took in those disturbing openings, his fingers tracing her hips with that same, disgusting touch. Finally, he stood. "And yet you've been violated."

"Your Majesty-"

"You proclaim to be a loyal, honorable soldier," he smirked, turning away from the predicament altogether, "but you've been violated."

"Your Highness, that wasn't my doing!"

"A corrupted maiden has no place in my kingdom," he stated, as he made his way toward Morgan. He stood over the witch then, with a slow, painful grin that made it hard to turn away. "But I suspected this. Your master was always a bit wild."

"Wait! Lady Morgan had nothing to do with it!" Lisette begged, trying to worm her way to Arthur, only to be held back by the executioner. "I was chained down your Majesty! I was assaulted by the Lord Taliesin's soldiers!"

"False," the tainted fairy chimed lightly.

"Are you really going through with this?!" the soldier continued, staring at the courts with desperate eyes. "Are you going to punish the victim when the criminals are standing there, right before your eyes?! Are you _blind!?_ "

"You're very rude as well," Arthur stated. "The lords would never do something as heinous as that."

"I swear on my life it's all true!" Lisette screamed, causing the aristocracy's entertaining giggles to fall silent. "Take a look around you your Majesty! I urge you to look into this case! You're being lied to!"

"I don't have time for this."

Though tears flowed through down the girl's cheeks, she never noticed at all. She never noticed Morgan shaking her head, trying to get her to stay quiet, so at the very least, the girl's own life would be spared. She never noticed the nobility already turning away, as did her king, whom she claimed to serve wholeheartedly. In the end, her loyalty meant nothing.

And when she made the mistake of screaming "Lady Guinevere would never do something as rash as this!", her already blackening heart fell to the floor, along with the rest of her crumpled corpse.


	46. Chapter 46

Euphemia came toward the Palace, the grandeur shadowed by the low lights of the Chinese Federation around her. Dim, orange lanterns pierced through the night air, the humidity entwining with the coolness at hand. Pink hair swirled around her body, the black dress once again mesmerized by the obvious wonder for which she stood by. Shimmering seas from afar forsook the darkness surrounding them, the ostentatious columns folding deftly towards the mandarin wrapped delicately around the bends, the kanji symbols too adorned with hope and amazement. The waning moon stood from above, its ghostly light barreling down upon Euphemia without the slightest hesitation, the freedom of its reign beginning to descend towards the lonely earth ahead.

Standing nearby was Suzaku, who wore that very same, blue trench coat now swept away by the ice. A black scarf wrapped around his throat tightly, as his emerald eyes kept watch over the corridors, ensuring that no one else was there. His brown bangs bounced when he came back to his beloved.

She crouched down, and stroked the concrete carefully, her own, analytical eyes indulging in even more scrutiny. As of this point, she'd run out of options. Countless searches have yielded nothing, and aside from the cracks in Vermillion, as well as in England, there was no other places Euphemia could think of to which Arthur would allow his knights to slip by. It was the reason why they were both here now, trying to force their way into the Courts. They were here, back to where Arthur had first attacked, seeking her out for one reason or another. Perhaps he was motivated for revenge, perhaps he was already trying to find his beloved Mordred. Perhaps Lelouch escaped even before Suzaku had arrived. Who knows?

Just yesterday, it was announced that the world has declared war on Alfheimr. Both Suzaku and Nunnally were present for the statements, as well as the entirety of the UFN and the Chinese Federation. Military preparations have already commenced, and benefits for veterans who choose to participate have skyrocketed. Humanitarian efforts have almost doubled, the speed in which the funds were being allotted already producing blinding results. Not even the most corrupt politicians would have any say in it, since none of the nations knew where the terrorists would strike again, other than the far east and Europe. There was no time for debates, no time for the normal livelihood of democracy to rear its smug, vain grin once again.

Prime Minister Oghi has already military support from Britannia, and is now dealing with both praises and criticisms from the native population. Some were still incredibly wary of the former superpower, endeavoring to stave off yet another enslavement, while others were relieved by it, arguing with that, at the very least, the Empress was endeavoring to rewrite the wrongs of a broken land. There was very few, if any, in-betweens, moderates who claimed to have little passion in international affairs, and if there were, they did their best to keep silent. All the while the media was trying to get more information from the politicians. A press conference will be held by the regional representatives, but other than that there was no viable way to obtain anymore information than what was already necessary. Because of all the commotion, Suzaku, or rather Zero, could sneak away from it all and plan the next assault. Unfortunately, Nunnally hadn't been in touch for some time, meaning neither Euphemia nor Suzaku knew what was going on.

What's more, someone else had managed to cross over the barrier. At first, Euphemia was alarmed, and though she didn't suffer the same punishment as last time, she couldn't help but be a bit wary by the newcomer. However, presence was different this time; amiable, innocent, it seemed they were trying to recover whatever precious time they had from their silent, youthful days. For some reason, the creature felt very lonely, isolated, yet content all the same. There they were, in that tiny realm of glory, however their trampled pride kept on with its haughty gloom. Whatever haughtiness was left in their thoughts seemed to disappear altogether, and in it, something had returned, something incredibly precious. No one else followed that creature in, so she left it alone, knowing full well the risks of obtaining the person now. She never told Suzaku this, but all the same, she felt for that existence a bit more, the warmth of a lone light amidst the sea of crimson that the world had planned to bathe itself in.

And in doing so, the presence reminded her of her brother in a way.

She closed her eyes. The Lancelot was right here before it all happened, before both Suzaku and Kozuki came upon that dead end. She could feel a tiny bit of that corrupted magic vibrate from here, the force of the cracks radiating quietly from her palms, and with it, a very fragile callousness she couldn't help but separate from the political battlefield. Her lips pursed, trying to worm her way through the opening that single opportunity could afford her.

The crack was already so wide. Someone from the Courts was here, trying to break free, scratching at the barrier with all their might, and yet she never noticed anything. The chaos Suzaku drowned nearly himself in from that night was possibly what ripped the crack open. Kozuki was nearby when it happened, and though Suzaku stopped from leaving, the pilot managed to get out of Guren and wander about. She might've managed to pull that mysterious benefactor out, the one picked at the seams with everything they had, no matter the consequence.

Euphemia was grateful to the soldier.

Tiny embers escaped from the ground, the heat searing itself onto her cheek before subsiding to the calm winter. Odd; Euphemia didn't sense anything here before, the emotions alone riling her senses in their own, personal rebellion. She could even see the Courts now, their looming familiarity calling out to her so easily. She stood and turned to Suzaku. "I want you to wait here, alright?"

He took one step forth, that noble determination setting from within his pupils. "I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Right," she answered, before looking away, her own, tainted spells drifting lazily throughout her body.

It's strange, how much he's changed, and just from the course of a few months. He was becoming stabler with each passing day, and though there were times when she could feel that stray mark of madness upon that once incorruptible beauty, nothing else arose from him. She caught him before he could fall any further, and that was an aspect she couldn't help but take pride in, the vanity associated with such an emotion never once presuming to touch her avariciously. No, he wasn't her knight, nor was he that innocent beloved she once took care to hold so deeply. Rather, something deeper came from those shallow bonds, one entwined with a nostalgic, melancholic love she could grasp without pretending. She could depend on him, however pitiful his own tainted heart had become.

She clenched her fists, and slowly, she mentally opened the rift a bit wider, torrential emotions pouring through the opening. From the corner of her eyes, she could see his shadow moving, just a tiny bit toward her, the hesitation so very entwined within that elongated darkness. "Euphie?" he called silently, moving just another step toward her.

A soft, gentle smile reached her lips, as she took a deep breath, breathing in the agony that'd so carefully draped the lands. Was he afraid? Was he afraid she would leave him again? Yet she was standing right here, mesmerized by the enchanting story that was beginning to unfold before her, whatever remnants of madness was left slipping away from her grasp.

Her hair flew behind her as the ashes became more and more evident, her own body burning from within the flames. The familiar scent of home came throughout her mind. And in the instant, the flames disappeared, replaced by a barren place, one filled with thistles and thorns. There were two empty chairs there, along with a wiry black table that seemed to barely keep itself up. Along the cracks were withered flowers, torn apart by whatever pain there had been left from the inhabitants of the meadow. Streams of red flowed silently, cruelly along the broken branches, the hot sun suddenly barring down on her with its own, hateful rays.

Suddenly, the relief found its way to her, and Euphemia found herself in that very same dead end.

* * *

He walked through the streets, peering through the bustling stores, as he wove his way through the crowds, a shadow along the edge of reality. Light footsteps shaped his own movements, his graceful form moving to the sounds of the that oblivious audience standing right near him. The elegance of the colors around him eased its way to his flesh, the fabric around his clothes taking hold of the night air. Warm bodies barely noticed the boy was there, though they were all entwined with a quiet lullaby no one else could hear, the lyrics echoing from the decorations across the gleaming, fluorescent starlight. His brown bangs were brushed back, but rather than the glares he would usually receive, no one paid attention.

No one knew.

He went on with his tiny dance, briefly seeking the reflections for which his own memories came to. Whenever he did something like this, someone would usually be following him. There'd be eyes on him, watching joyfully as the little sprite continued his mischievous gracelessness. There would be clapping, and whistles, with small legs following right behind him, trying desperately to catch up with him in all their immature jubilance. There'd be light touching the edge of his fingertips, the afternoon sun coming across his eyes like an ephemeral cry. And at night, when everyone was there, or when no one was around, he would dance to the mourning prayers of the velvet moon high above. He greeted both light and dark with his own mesh of poetry, all the while reciting the lyrics of a woman he's held before, a woman that kept a dead iris near her chest.

Breezes caressed his cheek as he continued toward his path. That giant Christmas tree was up ahead, and gathered around it, the shoppers who were bombastically endeavoring to take pictures of it, Japanese and tourists alike, though the uncomfortable suffocation kept getting in their way. His eyes widened at the leaves, at the ornaments that cascaded from the verdant cliffs. Streams of heavenly garland strung throughout the heights, the lanterns radiating their dim candles from the dark atmosphere. Every shade wormed their way through his eyes, as he marveled at the golden lights throughout the sea of bodies.

He stopped then, as he leaned over, and plucked one of the ornaments from its shelters, stealing it away from the branch without any sort of trouble from its peers. He examined the decoration, cradling it from within his palm, the golden haze coming off the simple reflections of his palm.

He was in a golden cage, trapped in that world for so very long. The tormentor would come every time, every so often if only to catch a glimpse of his own dances. Yes, the humiliation was there, as was the murderous intent. Curses were aways lingering from the back of his mind, effortlessly waiting for the day he could relay them back to the monster, the heartless nightmare alone enough to drive him to the edge.

He could remember clawing at something, doing whatever it took to get away from that golden cage. Tiny specks of fire flew by him, and though he was always burned by them, in the end he still kept on, attempting to think of that illustrious world he had to abandon. He could remember a very sharp pain near his limbs, the very sensation of having his legs torn off an incredibly horrifying, gruesome experience. He could remember the haunting melodies that kept on with its cruel chorus, repeating over and over again in hopes that he would, at the very least, do something, anything. Perform for the heartless, decimate the innocent, spill those scarlet sins within a maelstrom of azure, if only to keep that beautiful lust for a bit longer.

And yet, even from the resentment and the malice, the drugs and dreamless slumber from which his only escape was taken, he could make out that isolated touch. The monster kept screaming, crying, begging. He was cruel one minute, brokenhearted the next. It'd gotten to the point the boy couldn't comprehend what the creature was feeling, whether it be human or nonhuman. Names would escape from the monster's blubbering lips, and the very few times the man showed this side of his, the sporadic moments of when the boy would finally rest his own legs, chopped away yet again by the events of the day, the monster would simply sit there, and cry. Sometimes, it'd be within the cage, from when he became too tired to prod the fool any longer, while other times, it'd be outside the bars. The man would kneel in front of his victim, saying "Forgive me" over and over and over again. The words tried the boy's patience, and more times than he could count he continued to grapple with the wary thought of developing even the slightest hints of sympathy for the man. Though he never did, even then, seeing the creature grovel like that was hard to stomach.

So the fool would tune the man's cries out, even if he did shove himself in front of that cage, and beg. He couldn't listen to anything his victim told him, interestingly enough, but rather, he would keep up with his own nightmarish, agonizing cries, his prideful, arrogant facade breaking down the instant he walked through the door. Sometimes, he would simply stand there, draped in blood, with an ax in his hands, while other times, he'd be wearing the priest's robes, twirling around the cage, dancing at his light, athletic feet, all the while asking the boy to join him, completely brushing aside the confessions he made the other day. Of course, the fool would ignore him, though of course, the actions alone were intriguing enough as is.

He allowed the ornament back to its former place. That witch, C.C, was always there, visiting in from within those dreams. Yes, she was an odd one too. There were days when she kept urging him to fight on, to destroy the labyrinths Arthur had set up, while other times, she would lull him to sleep, leaping away the pain from another sorrowful day with a night of song and dance, the ballroom serving their refuge. It was weird, how the two worlds differed. Perhaps that was why Arthur kept him asleep. No, that couldn't be it. He wasn't that merciful, nor was that insatiable insanity of his so willing to grant the fool such a reprieve.

He steadied away from the tree altogether, before going around it, continuing on with his small, private procession. The adults kept brushing past him, their hands wrapped around their charges as they endeavored to keep the small children from straying from their side. However, a sudden change had come across the audience, and suddenly, an unknown, uncertain damage had been done. One by one, they turned, gazing at him, his gay, yet depressive dance enchanting the babes with all their imaginative minds could possibly hope to come to. They all stared at him, and they tugged at their parents, asking if they could see the strange man's performance. Of course, by the time they did pay any attention, the boy was gone, spirited away in the shallowness of the false happiness everyone had clung to.

He took a deep breath. If only for a bit longer, the boy managed to stave off those memories. Tiny streams of feelings came back to him, and immediately, his tense muscles calmed, a relaxing, forlorn air sweeping his own troubles away. The concerns were following behind, long enough for him to turn back and reach out, grabbing those turbulent emotions with whatever he possessed. But they remained where they were, never following him at all toward the amethyst slowly conquering his eyes.

If it wasn't for Alfheimr, both the Empress and Zero would've had an easier time reigning in this world. If it weren't for the terrorists, perhaps Empress Nunnally would be sitting on her bed right now, overlooking an era where she wouldn't have had to do anything, anything at all, if only to maintain her health. And Zero would be with her, the two side by side, like puppet figurines before a master of past agonies and pain, observing all the sins of which no one could even stomach. Who knows? Perhaps Queen Euphemia might have a say in it as well.

When the lights were far enough away, and only darkness followed the boy from beneath the soles of his feet, he moved forward. His hands flourished along the decaying air, though his own, gentle disposition refused to move. He kept on with his activity, his eyes closed, as the warmth of the evening began fading from his body, the convoluted forests beginning to resign to their own, isolated sanctuaries. Slowly yet surely, silhouettes became feral, twisting and turning to suite the needs of an untamed nature, rather than revert to the tame, domesticated societies humanity has placed upon them. Sounds of quiet footsteps came throughout his eardrums, the familiar scent of home taking place cascading through the chasm of nostalgia.

And he stopped.

There was a crumbling, far off chapel, away from civilization, away from everything he'd seen throughout the night. It was tiny, and brown, the rotten wood collapsing from the weight of the snow. Icicles hung from its low roofs, the ominous clouds gathering around the helpless thing. Shattered windows fell from the frames, the once beautiful stained glass nothing more than a rusted plaything for some unfortunate animal to happen by. As he walked closer, he saw the holes upon the roof, the cobwebs slowly gathering from within the corners. Dead insects took their graves to the warm interior, and whatever living creature was left within the forest were all hiding underneath, shivering in the merciless twilight.

Carefully, he came to the door, a pathetic arch settled above the entrance. Ice had formed around its columns, the surface slipping easily from his fingers. He blinked, before leaning against the surface, and pushing it away, the remnants of whatever was left still there, still waiting for something, for anything. He went inside.

The pews were rusted, with trash thrown carelessly underneath the chairs. Dark puddles of water were found within the lines of the decaying floors, his own eyes unwilling or unable to come forth with the abandoned thing. Shadows decorated the corners of the room, concealing whatever litter was left along the linings of the aisle. When he looked up, there was a wooden cross lingering over him, the foreboding presence making the darkness all the more wholesome. In front of that was a row of shattered mirrors, their own, heartless fate equivalent to that of the meaningless night for which lachrymose wept from the broken reflections.

He drew closer, before stroking the outlining. The reflections gave way to his slowly growing memories, suffering and jubilance racing back toward him.

There was Euphie, his beloved sister, who became Guinevere solely on her beauty, as well as the will she emitted from her own agony. A witness to all of Arthur's crimes.

There was Suzaku, thrust into the character of Lancelot, a friend from long ago, and a knight by his own right. If only to serve as yet another testimonial to the jury, he was a man with a strong sense of justice.

There was C.C, the witch who played Morgan, his accomplice and fellow fool, who drew her immortality from the countless years of pain she'd distanced herself from. What was she going to be, he wondered? A precious outsider who kept on with the investigations? An excited onlooker? A reporter?

And what of him?

What of Mordred?

He came to the pews and sat then, his legs neither weary nor enthusiastic. His hands were on his knees, his own, downcast gaze slowly coming through the endangered delusions from which Arthur had trapped him in. He'd lost count how many times the fairy had chopped them off, only for them to reattach later on, and he couldn't even begin to describe the sensations from which the numbness would erupt from his movements.

 _Judge me!_ Arthur cried out pitifully.

Lelouch gazed out at the mirrors emptily, the words echoing throughout his mind.


	47. Chapter 47

Ms. Kozuki sat at the kitchen table, worried creases marring her forehead. Both hands were on her temples, her closed eyes revealing the plentiful concerns swirling around her mind. The dim, apartment lights kept on their flickering, the shadows from the outside going about their business while she remained here she was, detached from the world surrounding her. A miserable, anxious frown tugged her lips, as her fingernails began digging through her scalp, tugging at the strands of her hair as to try and calm herself down.

Lying just a mere inch away was a red cellphone, which had been ringing on and off for the last four hours, filled with desperate calls as to where Naoko was, what he'd been doing, if he was among the list of causalities. it'd been a week since that airport jacking, and she had no idea where he was, if he was still alive. She couldn't call the police, considering they were all still very much wrapped up in this Alfheimr business, and the fact the neighbors kept glaring at her with malice and resentment reminded Ms. Kozuki of the position she put herself in, the consequence of taking in one tiny boy and shielding him from the ice.

How long has it been since she sat here, depressed and despairing, all the while driving her own, stable mind mad with the thought of silence around her? Kallen wasn't telling her anything, and neither were her friends. The media wasn't doing much at all, aside from recording the various reactions from the random strangers nearby. No matter how many sleepless nights she suffered, how many frustrated cries she sought after, in the end there was no answer to the questions racing through her the woman could do was just sit there and wait, helpless amongst the winter decadence.

She was vulnerable; she couldn't protect Naoko from the neighbors, couldn't help him when he was ostracized by the people around him. She couldn't fight like Kallen could, nor did she have that same, iron resolve Naoto carried so willingly with him. All she could do was stay put, like a good mother, and wait for her children to return. The utter agony of it all was something Ms. Kozuki could barely handle, yet it was something she had to deal with on a daily basis.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts she never noticed that timid knock on the door. The slight sounds of the lock being unlatched never reached her ears, and the only time she did look up was when she caught sight of a familiar shadows etched across the wooden floors, the cold seeping through the once lively house. Her eyes widened at the figure stepping in, and when he turned, his bangs hung low in his gaze. She raced toward the door.

"Naoko!"

She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shirt, endeavoring to quell the nonexistent trembling the boy apparently exhibited. He stiffened for a moment, before relaxing in her grip, taken in by the immediate warmth coursing through the air. After a few minutes of silence, Ms. Kozuki thrust him away, both hands on his shoulders, as she examined him. She fought back a sigh of relief, and assumed her protective scolding, relieved that she remembered to give him a copy of the apartment key.

"Where were you?" she instantly demanded. "Do you know how many people were looking for you?"

He never answered.

"Well, what're you just standing there for?" she chided, as she forced him through the doorframe. Carefully, she scrutinized the streets for any onlookers, before shutting the door with one hand. "Take off that jacket! Sit down! Wipe that smile off your face!"

Much to her relief, he did so.

She raced to the stove and opened one of the flames, grabbing one of Naoko's old teakettles as she did so. She turned on the facet next to it, and impatiently watched as the water filled the kettle ever so slowly. When it was full, she kept back to the stove and smothered the flame, before turning to Naoko, who already had his jacket off.

Her eyes softened visibly, and she returned to the table, taking a strand of his hair and examining it between her fingertips. "You're all wet," she murmured, her false, military disposition quickly melting away. "What've you been doing?"

He shrugged. _Nothing much._

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't give me that. Everyone's been so worried. _You_ are in a lot of trouble young man."

He looked up, a tiny, golden eye peeking out from his shroud of dark hair. _They were?_

"Of course!" she exclaimed, surprised that he would even ask such a question. She twirled away, and went toward the couch, placing a soft, cotton blanket in the embrace of her hands. She came back and shoved Naoko's head underneath, wrapping his entire body with it. "They've been calling me day and night trying to get to you. Where have you been? Did they do anything to you?"

He shook his head, his empty eyes gazing out towards the room. _I'm fine._

Ms. Kozuki crouched down and gave the boy a reassuring, albeit frustrated smile. "You're always like that, wandering around without a care in the world. You're going to call Kallen later tonight, alright? That girl's giving everyone a hard time since you up and vanished." She stared at him for a while, the resolution drawn within her expression, as she mentally goaded Naoko into doing what she requested. Finally, when he nodded, she sighed.

Ms. Kozuki stood, her own, motherly affections overtaking her instincts. Her shoulders relaxed, and from the corner of her eyes, what little snow was left at the front door was slowly disintegrating, leaving tiny droplets of simplified water in its stead. "I suppose I can't ask you to cook now, can I?" she joked, as she turned around, seeing the steam slowly beginning to erupt from the teakettle. All the while her mind kept sorting out the various food items Kallen managed to stuff in her room. Would the girl notice one ramen noodle package gone? Ms. Kozuki wouldn't know.

She was about to walk away when a hand caught her wrist.

She jolted. There they were, Naoko's long, slender fingers wrapped around with a nervous apprehension. She blinked, the sounds of an ongoing kitchen ceasing to claim any of her attention. She crouched down then, puzzled by the tiny frown etched on his face. "You know," she began playfully, "you'd be a lot more handsome if you smiled a bit more."

Though his lips barely moved, she could still make out the words pouring from his mouth. They were erratic, incoherent, but they were words all the same. So she stayed where she was. She placed her hands on top of Naoko's protectively, before looking up. "Sorry. Could you repeat that?"

 _What would happen if Kallen died tomorrow?_

Ms. Kozuki froze at the intensity of such a question.

Initially, she was about to scold the boy for such an impudent inquire, but for some reason, she stopped herself. Memories of refrain's prison kept reappearing before her eyes, her mind shifting through the countless moments of pain, how every little rest seemed lie seemed to fixate itself into her own realities. She took to appreciate every tiny detail that came her way, every beautiful thing that quelled the growing emptiness inside. But in the end, she never got to see her daughter grow; she never got to see Kallen in all her youth, and only now was she beginning to make up for it. She took a deep breath. "I'd be devastated."

 _How would you cope with that?_

"I'm…I'm not sure I would, honestly." Ms. Kozuki whispered softly. She flickered her eyes towards the boy, and gave him a melancholic smile. "I'm her mother after all."

 _I see._

She stared at him for a little more, the minutes slipping through her fingers, before resigning herself to her own, cruel revelations. "I don't think I ever told you this, but Kallen used to have a brother. If he were alive today, you'd probably be around the same age he was. He was apart of the resistance groups against Britannia, and Kallen decided to follow in his footsteps."

He blinked. _What was his name?_

She smirked pathetically at herself. "Naoto. You were a lot more feminine than he was, so I changed the ending. Kallen kept telling me to call you something else, but by then, I guess it stuck."

 _What was he like?_

"He was wonderful," she answered automatically. "Always rambunctious, kind and considerate, just like his father. When he was young though, he was always getting himself in trouble. One minute I walk away, and when I turn around, he would either bully Kallen or hold some poor, dead thing in his arms." She laughed at the memory, at how disgusted his sister would be whenever he did something so incredibly rude. That's right; he'd be standing there, with the latest pet to add to his morbid collection, all the while Kallen would be crying her eyes out, screaming at Ms. Kozuki to get rid of the thing.

What lively times they were.

Naoko cocked his head. _Was he killed?_

"He was," she replied silently, removing the reluctance settling within the depths of her heart. "I didn't realize Kallen was in the Black Knights… until after it all happened."

 _And you're fine with that?_ he pressed, leaning a bit closer toward the weary woman. _The Black Knights were once terrorists, after all._

Ms. Kozuki closed her eyes. "Yes, but… they're the ones who pushed the world to a better peace."

 _Do your feelings have anything to do with the fact that Kallen's apart of that?_

So many questions.

Ms. Kozuki pondered on the aspect, and however plausible the assumption seemed at the time, in the end it just wasn't her feelings. The only thing she wanted for her children was a good life, a warm home to call their own, a friend or two to support them in their time of need. If they could only have those fleeting moments of happiness, however temporal they were, she'd be fine. And she looked up. "I don't think so. As long as Kallen's happy, then I'm fine with it."

He stared at her then, the hesitation flashing against his eyes. He turned away, but continued on with the conversation. _So the Black Knights are peacekeepers now? Aside from Alfheimr, there's nothing wrong with the world?_

"I wouldn't say that," she refuted quietly. She placed her hand on Naoko's head, ruffling the soft, heavy strands slowly. "After all, there are a lot of bad people out there. In the end, even this peace won't last forever."

 _The Demon Emperor died, didn't he?_

"People don't change that easily," Ms. Kozuki said simply, placing her hand back down on his palm. "But in the end, I believe that's what makes us human. We aren't perfect. No one is."

 _Then what of the dead?_ Naoko kept on, gripping her fingers tightly. _If that's all humans are, then why'd they have to die? What peace did they all strive for?_

Ms. Kozuki's lips parted slightly, the teakettle from behind her starting to boil.

"Well, that's just it. There isn't a lot of people who would ask something as complicated as that. However," she closed her eyes, recalling the happy times she still missed, the children that used to play at her feet, the husband who kept her close at all times, refusing to latch onto any other woman but her, "I guess it's a peace to feel pride and humility. It's a peace where everyone can live freely, without fear of prejudice and pain, resentment and callousness. But even that has limits, considering the way everyone's treated you."

 _I-_

"Naoko, have you regained your memories?"

The boy fell silent, the shocking realization coming across his delicate, fragile face. Instantly, his knuckles blanched, and the room grew quiet, the thoughtless emotions humming throughout the air. From the outside, Ms. Kozuki could make out the tiny flakes of snow falling in the darkness, the dim lights glowing from behind her enough to cast two, forlorn silhouettes in the midst of that pure, white curtain guarding them from the dangerous bystanders. The ice was reforming once again, the dark figures slipping past with curious glares peeking through the windows.

It was cold outside, wasn't it?

"That's a good thing then, isn't it? At the very least, you could tell me your real name."

The boy turned away.

Immediately, the woman's own fingers grew cold. She felt so very weary, the child already slipping from her grasp so easily, and though there was reluctance, she knew she was going to lose him too. Yet, before she knew it, she felt herself tug at his hands again, and stared up at him, fighting back the tempting resignation settling in the back of her mind.

Carefully, she placed her palm on Naoko's cheek, before turning him toward her once more. She forced a painful, albeit comforting expression, and smiled. "You're always welcome here. I want you to remember that this is your home too, alright?"

Slowly, he nodded.

* * *

Suzaku's eyes scanned the documents in front of him, the hastily drawn treaties ready to be presented tomorrow. Tianzi's somewhat immature signature flourished in front of him, and right next to it, Xing-ke's own, protective calligraphy, which took the attention away from his mistress's. Next to it was the payment schedule for organizing the new shipment of Knightmares from India, along with Oghi's trade agreement with Korea and Australia.

Tomorrow, Britannian and Black Knight forces congregated to Tokyo, to meet and discuss possible strategies. Meanwhile, he, Cornelia, and Xing-ke will convene at Mt. Fuji, awaiting Nunnally's orders to strike back against Alfheimr, the world following behind the Britannian Empress. Though the UFN was still trying to figure out just where the terrorists will be coming from next, with the Chinese Federation and Britannia backing the far eastern nations, Suzaku couldn't help but be reassured that this time will be different. There was no way Arthur would get away.

It'd already been three days since Euphie left for the Courts. The fact he didn't know where she was now, or if she was still alive or not, worried him to no end. Euphie's safety kept worming its way back to his mind, so much so he found it difficult to think on anything else. He was always catching himself staring at some window or mirror or even the Lancelot, his eyes shifting from green to purple with the slightest encouragement that she was working toward her goals of liberation. The pink entwined in his bangs did little to ease his concern.

There were, of course, times when he _could_ concentrate on his work, the inevitable threat of assault so happily looming over him like an unpleasant alarm. He made sure to busy himself with the various strategies Lelouch was overly fond of, the complex tactics alone enough to frustrate Suzaku to no end. All the while, he kept a careful watch over Nunnally, if only to ensure she doesn't get involved. Schniezel was by her side, and he managed to get Sayako near her as well. From what he could understand, there'd been no change in her activity, none at all that had anything to do with Arthur.

But all the same…

He sighed. There's no need to get so worked up. If this plan actually works, Arthur will come barreling through Kamine Island to try and assault Japan. It's true; neither he nor Euphie managed to secure Lelouch, and it pained them both to use the vulnerable ex-royal as bait. But at the same time, it was in that merciless act that gave Euphie an edge in the fight. If Arthur was so fixated on his precious Mordred, she could then determine what course of action the king would take, what kind of extreme measures he would implement. It was only through those vague predictions did they even stand a chance against Arthur. He'd actually be more confident in that strategy if not the new secret she'd suddenly started indulging herself in.

Suzaku leaned back against his seat and looked up, the Zero costume adorning his body. He ran his fingers through his deep, caramel bangs. It was rather odd, how she suddenly closed herself off from him with that tiny, hidden thought alone. He didn't think it was earth-shattering, nor was it of any harm to them. In fact, it seemed she was ecstatic about that little secret of hers, so much so he couldn't help but wonder if she depended on such a thing that badly. He did ask her once, but she gave him that same, sweet, genuine smile he hadn't seen in a while. Though relief replaced curiosity, in the end, Suzaku was left pondering on what the fairy was so calm about, especially at a time like this.

 _I want you to wait here, alright?_

There was a sudden knock on the door, the sound resounding from his office. Suzaku stared at the entrance for a bit, before grabbing the Zero mask and placing it over his face. "Come in."

The door slid open, and from behind, Kallen walked in, a serious frown tugging at her lips. Her blue, lively eyes gave way to a suspicious light embedded within her pupils. She was wearing her red pilot suit, with cool droplets of sweat coming down the side of her head, a testament to how hard she'd been training with the Zero Squad. "Kozuki," he greeted.

"Zero."

He narrowed his eyes, the unmistakable apprehension taking form in her voice. "What is it? What's the matter?"

The soldier took a deep breath then, and clutched her fists. "Will we be handling the hostages?"

"No. That duty will go to Lady Kaguya."

"I…I see."

Suzaku stared at her for a little while, his emerald eyes scrutinizing her seemingly emotionless expression. "Is that all?"

"No," she answered resolutely. "Zero, when…when we take the enemy into custody, what will happen?"

"They'll be brought to the tribunals, where their executions will be broadcasted live." Suzaku explained readily, his eyes never leaving her own, as he relayed Kaguya's cruelty to her. "Of course, that's not set in stone. After all, in the end the world will be our jury. Aristocrats and elitists alike will have no say in the matter."

"What of the war prisoners? What happens to them?"

"After undergoing medical evaluation, they'll either be hospitalized or they'll go back to their own lives."

She clenched her teeth. "It's easy, isn't it?"

"Kozuki."

The girl stopped then, her own insubordination splayed across her brain. She turned away, shame covering her eyes. "Sorry."

Suzaku took one last look at the treaties, then looked back up at his subordinate. "What's all this? It's not like you to break down like this."

He could see her nails digging into her legs, the reluctance pouring out from her frame. She bit her lip, but in that split second, she tossed her hesitation aside. "I would like to make a request…sir…"

Suzaku raised a delicate eyebrow. He folded his hands in front of him and assumed his regal position, all the while tiny voices kept sounding from the back of his mind, thoughts from which even he had already come to terms with. The desperation was so clearly labeled on her face, and for a moment, Suzaku knew his own suspicions have come to light. "Go on," he urged. "What is it?"

"Will there really be peace after this?"

He was quiet for a brief second, before answering. "That, again, depends on what the world decides."

"But as long as someone isn't doing anything wrong, then it should be fine right? There's no need to convict them?"

"Supposedly," he replied cautiously. "Kozuki, what happened?"

She started to open her mouth, but paused. The tension in her muscles slowly relinquished their control, and before long, she evoked that unintentional interrogation. "A friend of mine got caught up in something he shouldn't have."

He leaned forward, placing his elbows against the desk. "Does it have anything to do with Alfheimr?"

"Yes."

Suzaku stiffened, yet another possibility crashing down on him. "Is he working with them?"

"No. In fact, all this time he's been trying to get away from them. They want something from him, but I'm not sure what."

"What makes you so sure?"

"During…the hostage crisis at Tokyo University," she began, "there was a group of soldiers who came to my classroom. They seemed to recognize him from somewhere."

"A deserter then?"

She shook her head. "No. He was incredibly important."

This was it. "Did your friend go with them?"

"He didn't know them."

Suzaku flickered his eyes toward the fading sunlight, the miserable day coming to an end. The cruel, nostalgic rays were already hiding behind the clouds, a moonless night staring down at him. "Was he at the International Airports as well?"

"I…I believe he was."

"Is he among the wounded?"

"No sir," she said automatically. "He's…he's alive and well."

So that's it.

"All of Japan will be under the UFN's protection," he said finally. "But we are also the knights for justice. You're friend will be safe with us."

She bowed lowly. "Thank you."

"May I ask for his name?"

The pilot froze for a brief moment, before answering. "Naoko Kozuki sir."


	48. Chapter 48

Euphemia steadied herself along the fray, the heat of the flames slowly disintegrating from within her body. Her eyes readjusted themselves, as her mind came away from the turbulence she was so very accustomed to. Rosette hair descended down her body, the light bouncing off the curls as she straightened, all the while picking up eroded, neglected dust which decorated her heels. A sharp pang stabbed her lung, and she huffed painfully, though a few moments later, she managed to brush the burden aside. She looked up warily, the Chinese Federation evaporating from her vision.

Carefully, she peered around the area, curiosity fading from her mind. A dark tenacity clouded her eyes, her pupils tracing the entwined abandonment of the violent predicament she introduced. She gripped her skirts tightly, and bit her lip, as she hesitantly began walking toward the ruins. Her footsteps echoed through the silence, beads of anxious sweat decorating her forehead. Guilty remorse was evident in her expression, a tiny drop of blood seeping through her mouth as a result of her own, neglectful shame.

All around her, windows were broken away, the bullet shells responsible for the travesty scattered over the grounds. Ash blew from nearby refuges, with shimmering remnants of rich jewels tossed frustratedly to the ground. Black caressed brown, the thorns carving their way through the neglected, iron rods. Scorch marks embraced their ugly features around the once cared for shelters, the enraged fireplaces taking form of hellfire, which little more than an added cause to the destruction around her. The soft, horrified sun hid from behind the heavy, foreboding clouds, endeavoring to mask Euphemia's finding out of the hideous deeds, while pleading for its own cause. Tiny, stray golden rays shinned upon the dead end, and however reluctant the overseer was, in the end, the fairy could still make out the decaying corpses lying far off to the side.

Primitive, fearful expressions kept staring out emptily across the grey, their mouths reforming the horror they've endured before being spirited away by the now beloved Death. Yellow flesh clung desperately to what little bone their hosts had, a testament to the ravaging the starved animals or elves or pixies or whatever other creature resided in the forests endured. Teeth were stolen, hair strands were ripped forcefully from their victim's skulls, if only to appease those lovely traditions forgotten so very long ago. Fairy circles were made from the rotting bodies, and however decadent their movements were, the creatures still attempted to muster up the characteristic illusion that holy, sanctified reign was doused with. She could even see them standing there, laughing miserably at the graveyard of morals, the crimson seas flooding the dreams they once called home.

Euphemia walked through the town, her own eyes draped from one edifice to the next. Her muscles tensed, the happy memories she spent along the beautiful moments now laying to waste, burned by the arrogance she thought she could tame. A funeral procession of shadows kept past her vision, made up of tiny insects who waited patiently for their charges to arise, of small pets sniffing around for their master's scents, just wondering how long this delusional game was going to last. Half-burned toys came through for the sake of their children, and through their withering bodies, the fabric undoing itself with every little second passing by them, they kept on hoping, their half-smiles filled with jubilance that somehow, someway, their tiny playmates would come back and finish the game they were so bent on playing.

It was all gone, was what she finally realized.

Euphemia caught sight of a far-off manor lying in the distance, which, too, was broken along the painful chain of humiliation, and immediately, she started toward it, the supportive lord who had previously resided there no doubt slaughtered by the king. Once glorious arches were reduced to rubble, the stained glass windows torn away by the very intruders who attempted to cast aside their nightmares. As she came closer, she saw ambitious spears standing haughtily near the iron entrance, with seductive, dead vines clinging to every fiber of their being. Swords came away from the soldiers' dusts, narrowly avoiding an uneventful cremation to which even the weapons wouldn't have minded reflecting. Shields proudly holding a signia Euphemia couldn't even begin to understand stared back at her disturbed gaze, imitating her own daunting nightmare, before replacing it with their more terrified ones. She was about to come to them, when she stopped herself, moments of her own, foolish knights washing over her brain. She took a deep breath, and turned away, knowing full well what pitiful sacrifices were made here.

As Euphemia walked through the corridors, she searched her mind for anything familiar about this place, anything at all that she could've missed. Aside from the forests Suzaku so chaotically destroyed, she couldn't recall anything more of this place. Perhaps Lelouch came here once, or C.C. Maybe they'd know where she was, what the lord here used to do. Was he a merchant? A farmer? Did he helped Queen Mab manufacture some of the Knightmares here, trying to support Euphemia from the shadows? Was he with Titania? Was he allied with Arthur or Vivien?

And what of the manor here? Who knows what stories could be told from these halls, what truths Euphemia managed to hide from herself. Yes, in some ways the home did look like her castle from the Unseelie Courts, yet all the same, the imitation was simply too happy to be hers, the lining of the sun already getting caught from the fragile, magnificent decorations on the ceiling. The light alone was enough to distort whatever darkened deceit came forth from the corners.

She gazed at the dirt covered floors, the black stains of blood and iron upon the wall. Rain that came and went left behind molds she was careful to avoid. Like in the town, bodies were scattered everywhere, with the worthless armor keeping the knights away from her line of sight. Of course, Euphemia was afraid to look at those men, however noble they believed the cause to be. Whether fairy or human, in the end they were all there now, sharing the fate of their dead comrades, following them to a losing battle against tombstones and coffins and crying loved ones. Their honor alone, it seems, wasn't enough to save them. Euphemia could practically see them now frantically running to the entrance, trying to escape into their Knightmares to fight the Lancelot. They were screaming, telling each other to fight off the insane man, while preserving what was left of their already shattered glory.

She could see why Arthur chose them.

How he managed to acquire them though, was a more complex matter. Were they servants, like C.C, servants he managed to kidnap? Were they humanoid experiments he created, if only to provide some whimsical, dramatic entertainment for him to sit down and watch? What were they, in her mind? What were they to Arthur?

Room by room, she examined the contents, scrutinizing whatever was left of the panic. Streams of fabric came bursting throughout the seams, torn silk, shredded gold leaf spread from across the bedchambers. Wooden trash desolated the once ostentatious environments, the sweet dreams accompanying it now remaining asunder through the hateful midst. Portraits were torn apart one by one, from family to friends, adult to children, whoever standing protectively in front of the obstacle dead within that moment. There was nothing at all that could be destroyed, nothing that could even get Euphemia to comprehend the perverted mindsets involved with the mutilating scenes. Descriptions alone weren't enough to describe what went on in the fairy's head, nor were her emotions yet poetically morbid to undo the ravelings of the madness bestowed before her, the battlefield calling out her name so eagerly, so vibrantly, though her blood never sang the same songs it carried, so very preciously.

She came across one particular room however, a ballroom where a giant, golden cage resided, nestled uncomfortably between the curtains and the walls. Just like the rest of the castle, the bars were rusted, the emptiness due to the open door swinging painfully from the screws. The orange light emphasized the isolated nature for which the prison kept its victims, and if she walked a bit closer, Euphemia could see the tiny stains of blood for which the victim kept screaming out. She cocked her head, as she crept a little closer, one delicate hand reaching out to the bars.

Drug needles were scattered all over the floors.

Her eyes widened at the revelation, a slight frown caressing her lips as she backed away from the cage. She recognized those vials. She remembered how viciously Ella attacked the drug, mercilessly shutting down whatever operations manifested itself from the former territory, doing whatever she could to dismantle the market altogether. The Black Knights even helped the efforts.

Refrain, a highly addictive drug that could send a person back into their happiest memories, with the slightest injections; delirious, helpless, the person would later on suffer horrible side-effects that rendered them incapacitated for an unknown amount of time, the whole body shutting down at the seams of the calm. The mind would disregard whatever harsh reality was going around them, only to retreat back a time when the ugly sins never occurred, where not even the conscience could dwell, if only to take away the strange concept called pain.

Euphemia clenched her fists, then slammed the knuckles into the bars.

Arthur needed those humans to bring them Refrain vials, if only to quell the agonizing howls of violation. Someone was in here, trying to break down the barrier from the inside, trying to escape, only to fall victim to something as torturous as this. That was perhaps why Arthur needed the drug, to quell the person's rebellious pride, to acquire yet another submissive, obedient slave.

Lelouch.

But...but there could've been someone else here. Whether it be C.C, or Mab, or perhaps one of her citizens, or her soldiers, all of whom had to devote their time to this forceful, hopeless torture chamber. All of whom had to come from under the cover of shadows, quivering in fear, quiet embedded within the back of their throats as they pleaded that they be spared from anymore pain. The secure became lost, the strong weak, the scholarly degenerating with every second spent here, under Arthur's control. Torn limbs, blood splattered over the floors, the nightmarish howling erupting from every which way.

And what would she do then, if Arthur came there, to that mundane, trivial world? What would he do with Suzaku? Nunnally? Cornelia? Guilford? Anyone at all she dared smile at?

What would happen?

Euphemia narrowed her eyes, before coming away from the room altogether. That little crack was starting to get wider and wider, and with a little more prodding, she might be able to force a way in. Though the magic wouldn't be as nearly as large as it used to be, at the very least it was large enough so that Arthur could sense the threat. He would send out his own army, where Britannian forces and the Black Knights would ambush him, and even if he hadn't, the armies could squeeze through, with Suzaku holding the barrier. The new Knightmares should be in, and with a skilled pilot like Kozuki and Todoh, dealing with the enemy shouldn't be a problem. Meanwhile, Euphemia will go in and take out the leading commanders. She'll paralyze the structure from the inside, then make her way to Arthur.

She couldn't wait for Lelouch or C.C to make their way back to her. She couldn't afford to keep pretending to be Zero, nor could she go on as one of Ella's foot soldiers, just waiting for another attack to happen. There was no other ally she could depend on, no other friend she wanted to drag into this pitiful war.

There was no time left.

* * *

Arthur breathed a deep, relieved breath, as he stared out at the corrupted kingdom underneath him. Cold, callous eyes kept up with the realms' mournful gleams, an empty smile grazing his face, as he took in the tainted sights nearby. Heathen mountains splayed their sharp magnificence, drowning away whatever was left of the once innocent scenery. Forests protruding black and grey filled the leaves with invisible sorrow, replicating the executions that took place not too long ago. Crumbling buildings distorted a beloved naiveté, one Arthur was welcome to dismantle. Silence pierced through the once chaotic air, the dreadful screams he would always wake up to at night now vanished without a trace. That shimmering, silver bell that stood from the towers was taken down, tossed down in the trash heaps along with the gargoyles it once served, its unnecessary rings a brief, judgmental echoing from the back of his head. From the corner of his eyes, he could see a small, stray shadow scampering about, doing whatever it could to remain hidden, all the while scavenging food from the dying land.

And he couldn't help but smile.

Arthur sighed, covering his eyes with one hand. White armor flourished from his body, the same armor that protected him from the battlefield, from violence, from any foolish decision his morality guided him towards. The desolation never presumed to touch him, yet all the same, he was on guard. His mind carefully watched the dead heart for any signs of beating, anything at all pertaining to a life he once forsook.

"Your Majesty."

He never turned around, never caught glimpses of the emerald, gossamer curtains that descended from the balconies. The stubborn, ostentatious tiles took care for their demonic designs, that of cherubs which repeatedly sounded their golden trumpets. But he smirked silently, knowing full well what the servant came here to tell him. "What is it?"

"It's the traitor, sir," the servant answered politely, his own, sinful nature unveiling before the king. "The Court requests the execution time."

"Midnight."

The servant blinked. "They request it be now."

"It will be at midnight," Arthur repeated, walking toward the balcony and placing his hand against the railings, his eyes examining every hiding place the vermin were still sleeping in. Ah, he remembered those corners. He used to hide rocks there. Oh, and flowers too; the meadows were always so very beautiful in the summer.

Forests in the autumn.

Cliffs at wintertide.

"Your Highness, if I may-"

"You may not," the fairy stated callously. "Tell them that unless they want to take Sirius's place, I suggest they not speak of the matter again."

A tentative pause came before the man, his shaking growing more and more profuse throughout the air. Arthur could practically taste the servant's fear, that delicious fear which costed so many lives in this dying earth, a stumbling block to the courage the idiots kept preaching about. He relished in it. He savored it. If only to see that face again, Arthur would've done whatever it took to see those fearful eyes again, the same eyes that reflected his own weakness so long ago.

A weakness Arthur would rather die for, more than anything else.

Finally, the servant bowed. "Y-yes, sir." He spun away hastily, and started making his way out of the empty bedchamber, when Arthur stopped him once more, that deviant grin fading from his lips. "And what of the fool? Is she still at the manor?"

"Yes, your Highness," the servant answered. "She hasn't come out, ever since Lady Lisette's execution."

"I want her present for this one as well."

"But sir-!"

"What?"

The man bit back his tongue, hesitation easily rolling through his brain. However, his feelings were incredibly strong, to the point at which, by the end of the moment, he forgot his place. "Sir," he began, "out of all our generals, Lady Morgan is the most skilled and efficient. She carried out most of the purges, and has put to death so many threats, both near and far…your Majesty."

"What of it?" Arthur questioned slothfully.

The servant flinched at the king's aggressiveness, endeavoring to find the words to appease the unstable monarch, while protecting the witch's own sensibilities. "But she isn't like the others," he said finally, his head bowed low. "She isn't as emotionally mature. I-if you expose her to…to this, I'm afraid her-"

"Her what?" he interrupted, twisting sickeningly toward the servant, who was now cowering in fear. That's right; a lot of the servants have tended to the lords of the realms, if only for a brief moment. He knew what he was talking of, what he was dealing with. Yet he kept on with his terrifying wrath, impatient in his words. "Her prowess will fade? It's her art I'm interested in, her art, and nothing more. If she cannot compose the paintings I desire, I'd rather her _dead_."

"S-sir…"

" _That will be all,"_ Arthur hissed through gritted teeth. "Say one more word, and you _will_ be joining your master in the execution. Do I make myself clear?"

An unwilling pause broke between the two silhouettes, both vulnerable to the destruction laid behind, both helpless to the uncertainties lying before the final judgement.

Finally, the man nods, trying to halt his trembling while making his resigning, embarrassing defeat towards the monarch known, his allegiance a testament to the unfaithful heart he possessed. He started to open his mouth, only to shut it when he saw Arthur's dangerous smile. He bowed once again, before spinning his heel and making his way out of the desolate atmosphere, not even daring to weep for the comrades he betrayed.

Arthur closes his eyes, unable to turn around and stare at the quiet, subtle misery for which the crowds exhibit. I

t's true; he could see them, even from here. They were all waiting for the same thing, everyone trying to, at the very least, show their support for his reign, be it fully or half-heartedly. Yes, there they were, leaning closely in the stadiums, trying to see what the criminal looked like, the hero who dared try and usurp the king's glory. Bright, orange lights glossed over their somewhat disturbing, pleasant faces, the boredom entrenched in their delicate, shallow souls. Their shadows flickered from within the twilight, the moon high above their heads, as they went on with their night, impatiently waiting for the punishment to commence. The stakes were already set up, the brimming, crimson torches ready to insight the despair they were so desperately longing to inflict.

He opened his eyes, and stared up at the constellations above. By now, Morgan should be breaking down. That knight was like a child to her, and within the depths of that ruthless tactic, he couldn't help but wonder what she would become. No, she didn't have the same resolve as Guinevere, but neither was she as tame as Lancelot. Would she be another judge?

He sighed. They were all there, just waiting for him to come back, waiting for him to go to those childlike dreams they all thought of together. There they were, waving at him, happy smiles decorating their lips, the beautiful memories spanning just beyond his reach.

Even the relief of turning away had eluded him.

* * *

Author's Note:

Hello, I'm the Seelie Court Jester.

-For those of you who have read _Crime and Punishment_ by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Luzhin, the fairy official from the beginning of the story, was also a character from the book. Personally, I saw the man as a flat character, and so, I imitated that Luzhin into my Luzhin in both _Tales of the Seelie Courts_ and _Ashes to Ashes._ Their haughtiness was what led to their downfalls in the end, CP by losing the woman he treated as a trophy, and AA by...dying, in front of his own hostages. In _Tales of the Seelie Courts,_ I also mentioned a few other characters, such as Sonia and Raskolnikov, if any of you are interested.

- _Crime and Punishment_ was a psychological novel from Russia that delved deep in themes such as sin, morality, and judgement. I highly recommend this book, either for leisure reading, or perhaps, preparing for your AP English Literature exam _(_ _hint hint.)_


	49. Chapter 49

Kallen pried the door open, her eyes wide with fright, as she frantically surveyed the room for whatever destruction she thought would occur. Beads of sweat came down her forehead, her shivering frame a testament to the anxiety attacks she'd been suffering from. Her lungs were burning, her chest heaving up and down, as she endeavored to calm herself, as well as her murderous rage. Her fingernails pierced through the wooden door, her pale, blanched expression masking the terrified thoughts she's nurtured for the last couple of days. Her red hair was in disarray, the bangs wildly falling to her eyes without the slightest traces of pity, or misery, or whatever else might've come across her mind when she heard the missing, irritating boy was back.

Her mother was there, sitting on the couch with a tiny, sad smile on her face. Meanwhile, the boy in question was settled beside her, covered with one of Naoto's old, ugly sweaters, a black one with oversized sleeves and outstretched hands that almost covered the boy's body like a blanket. There was a white teapot placed in front of the two, a small pink rose on the front of it, with three porcelain cups around it. There was a quilt blanket shared between the figures, with a cup of ramen noodles tossed aside in the trash. The chopsticks were still there, on that one, lone table.

Kallen took a deep breath, and sighed. She slammed the door shut, causing both her mother and Naoko to jolt and spin around. She took off her combat boots and looked up at the missing person warily, her hands by her side as she slowly made her way toward the den. In all honesty, Kallen was proud of herself; though her demeanor was calm, poised, cool, mentally and emotionally she was tearing at her heart, ripping it to shreds while silently demanding where Naoko had been, if he knew how much trouble he caused for all of them. She resisted every urge to punch him, to suffocate that skinny little neck of his and wring him until he apologized, in the afterlife or otherwise.

She'd gotten incredibly mature.

And when she towered over him, she couldn't help but notice how wrong that assumption really was. "Where the _fuck_ were you?"

"Kallen, please," her mother said softly, standing protectively over Naoko. "Not now."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Kallen asked darkly, turning her subtle, boiling rage to the poor woman. She stopped herself then, and closed her eyes, trying to channel her anger into something more positive, something that wouldn't include a body cast in the system. She turned to Naoko again, who stared at her with a somewhat shameful alarm. It was the first time she couldn't tell what he was thinking, the unreadable air tracing over the atmosphere so easily.

"Rivalz had been worried _sick_ ," she explained. "He couldn't even _sleep_ for the past week. And Mom? She's been pulling her hair out trying to find you."

He never answered.

Kallen clenched her fists, as she walked closer, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of his expression. "Just what were you _thinking,_ going there by yourself?"

"Kallen, listen." her mother whispered softly, placing one hand over Kallen's shoulder. "Naoko he…he remembers everything."

And for some reason, she wasn't surprised.

Kallen could recall that fateful conversation, the chaotic moments of when Shirley told the pilot everything she could've possibly thought to remember. She told Kallen about seeing Lelouch there, along the fray, trying to get everyone out of a world the pilot wasn't interested in. She told her about a friend named Euphie, and how she risked her own freedom endeavoring to bring everyone to this side. She told her about the pain she suffered at the hands of a person named Arthur, of how badly her father kept moaning and groaning, about how she thought of murdering the abuser multiple times, if only for that brief, momentous relief in which she could be spared from the emotional burden.

So many questions swirled through Kallen's mind. So many thoughts pertained to the boy sitting in front of her, the memories of his power so very real, so very much alive. She wasn't sure if it was Geass, or if it was something that Arthur guy did to clear his memories, but in the end, she couldn't be more sure of it.

Yet the doubts were still there, still crossing over any assurance she would've had along her normally confident arrogance.

She released her fists, and turned to her mother. She gave the woman a barely collected smile, an appearance that already raised suspicion. "Mother, I need to talk with Naoko for a bit."

"Kallen-"

"Please."

The woman regarded her daughter for a long while, that same, motherly instinct which governed her instincts kicking in through the lights of her eyes. Apprehension took hold of her features, her own perspective claiming the appearance of a sibling rivalry that was about to explode at the seams. But in the end, the right to oversee that fight was no longer in her jurisdiction, a prospect Kallen knew her mother would have a hard time to accept. It wasn't long before she still backed down, and turned to Naoko, who stood to some silent, daunting command.

Kallen saw those golden eyes then, those piercing, golden eyes that reminded her so very much of C.C.

 _Your room,_ he seemed to say.

Kallen nodded stiffly. "Fine," she answered, as she brushed away her mother's hand. Slowly, she started away from the nervous wreck, who by now was holding both hands in front of her torso. She could sense the anxiety coming across the room, diffusing into the air without any reluctance. Prayers that her mother might've spoken, wishes she might've held, if only to spare the remnants of that happy, kind past, shielding such a hopeless thought from the cruelties this underserving world instigated upon it, was all crumbling away. The fragile balance was breaking before her very eyes.

But alas, it wasn't Kallen's problem.

Kallen led Naoko into the bedroom, her floors now cleared from the clutter both she and Naoko caused. University fliers were scattered all over the walls, from study abroad, to classical concerts, to even dance recitals for which she hoped Naoko might show. Assignments lay upon her desk, messily covering her laptop with warnings and reminders of what would happen should her grades fall below a certain point. Sparks of life from her recent times with the Black Knights carried the responsibilities into the folds of her bed, papers and papers of strategies and tactics endlessly swarming over the covers. The Guren's keys lay on top of her bookshelf, patiently waiting for the day when Zero finally orders the attack against Alfheimr. All of the objets, all the documents that covered whomever was nearby, demolished that beloved, photo shrine, her friends' faces now unseen by the mess that took over Kallen's life.

She could feel Naoko's gaze from the difference of the room as Kallen closed the door softly, knowing full well her mother dared not follow her here. She bit her lip, and pushed herself away from the entrance. She folded her arms, and was about to say something, when she followed Naoko's gaze towards the photos. "Yeah, I need to clean up here."

He turned around, a small, playful little smirk tugging at his lips. _Yeah, you do._

"You probably need to call Rivalz soon."

Uncertainly, his eyes came away from her face, his pupils fixated on a small, lonely corner hidden away from the disorganized mayhem. He turned back again, a different subject reminiscing his covert thoughts.

He was saying something. He was asking something. He was doing the same thing he always did, communicating through gestures and expressions, his lips slightly parted. But Kallen never understood any of it, nothing at all that could possibly have reminded her of that secret language the two always shared.

And it never bothered her.

"I talked with Zero." she said finally.

The surprise was clearly etched on his face, but she kept on, ignoring that familiar, rebellious confusion. "Apparently, the UFN will be taking care of the civil procedures. Starting tomorrow, everyone in the Tokyo area will be evacuated."

 _…_ _you…fighting?_

"I am," she answered quietly, the once complete sentences now filling her mind with gibberish. She continued, turning her stare away from the boy, tuning him out altogether. "Zero contacted me yesterday too, actually. While we're fighting, you will in custody of the Black Knights. They won't allow you out of their sight until the tribunals are over."

She could feel him squirming. She could hear his inaudible protests banging against her head, though no matter how much he screamed she still kept herself away. "Once this thing blows over, you'll be living with me and mom. Maybe Rivalz, or anyone else you've managed to worry. You can do whatever you want, but you just need to be somewhere I can keep a close eye on you."

 _No._

Kallen turned, burning away the astonishment from her face. A dark shadow encompassed her normally clear blue eyes, as she replayed the resounding rejection. "What?"

 _I…this isn't something…he wants to…did Zero really…?_

"I don't care," she snapped, causing him to fall silent. "It's clear what Alfheimr is after is _you._ Mom said you got all your memories back, right? Surely _you_ of all people can't deny something like that."

 _…_ _what…interrogation…_

"You know, I don't care what anyone else has to say," she dismissed then, reclaiming the moments of those happy, hopeful times. "You're here now. You're Naoko, and that's all there is to it."

 _Kallen-_

"I need you to understand that," she said forcefully. "I mean, a life here wouldn't be so bad, right? At least you don't have to go out on the battlefield. You can just stay here, do whatever you want, be whoever you want. Gino said you were a really good dancer, so maybe you can do that."

She could hear the uneasiness in that tone, the very idea becoming more and more repulsive to her, but all the same, she jabbed herself in the side with that idea, trying to, at the very least, fool the boy into thinking her sincerity was genuine. "Who knows? Maybe you could work part-time with Rivalz, then go to school at TU. I hear the auditions are coming up soon.

"You've got a lot of friends too, and mom's looking out for you. You've got a home, a warm bed, food on the table. You've also got the Black Knights for protection, and if those terrorists try to come near you again, you won't have to worry. I mean, seriously, who wouldn't want this life? It's not that bad-"

She stopped when she felt his hand on her wrist.

The shock sped back before her eyes. Wordless illusions came crashing down onto her, the mind-numbing sensation of distortion slowly retained its properties from which her mind managed to partially banish. The heartless mood came into play, and all the while she could see his face, his miserable face, at the very thought of her own, selfish idea.

She bit her lip. "Naoko, everyone's after you," she said, after quite some time. "At the very least…at least you could stay behind, for my mother's sake."

He never answered.

"And what do you think will happen to Rivalz?" she asked, after swiping her hand away. "What'll you think this'll do to the guy, huh? And Milly?"

Still, only silence.

She gritted her teeth. Suddenly, Kallen took his arm, her frustrations pouring from her mouth. "So that's it then? You're just gonna leave and never come back?! What'd you think everyone else will say, huh?! You want to prove them right?! You wanna be some coward who can't even stand to face his own shadow?!"

He blinked.

" _You're pissing me off,"_ she muttered warningly, shoving him away from her. "You know how helpless you are? You know how _fucking_ vulnerable you are in this stupid, miserable world? Just a few months ago, you couldn't even _walk_ and _now_ you're gonna pull some _fuck-ass stunt like this?!_ Who the hell do you think you are anyways?!"

His mouth moved.

"Come on Naoko!"

He returned her argument with his, spiteful one.

"Say something!"

And he did. He really did.

But she's already tuned him out.

* * *

Morgan shivered violently in her front of her easel, her white, seemingly harmless dress covering her pale, immovable legs. One palm was held against her puffy eyes, the other lying cast away somewhere, beyond the darkness, beyond her reach. Cold ice tugged at her heart, the irritating jabs of isolation filling her senses bit by bit, the slightest of movements a result from the incessant cries she heard the mourners screech just hours ago. Quiet, inaudible sobs escaped from her lips, though the sorrow has all but gone away, removing itself from her depressing existence for which even the menace had attempted to deliver her from.

Completed sketches of her dreams lay torn and tattered, the canvases destroyed within the seconds. Paints lie scattered across the floors, the splatters so ironically entwining with the shadows surrounding the once happy, vibrant colors. Strands of green hair came to the fold, mixed in with sketches of smiles, of dancing, of compositions not even she could muster the strength to create. Streams of fabric lay wasted along the corners, empty promises for which not even she could fulfill coming through to her so very decadently, pathetically, mixed in with rage and sorrow all the same. Her eyes were helpless, her gazes so very fragile, as she contemplated on that one, beloved silhouette that always came to grey her so, during this time, during this moment.

That child was ripped from Morgan's arms before she could even flinch.

There was no place the witch could retreat to. She couldn't go back to that ballroom, for fear that her sweet joker would tear away from her emotional onus. She couldn't come into that beautiful, dreamlike world, a place where only the mundane ruled, where even the peacemakers kept neither confusion nor controversy down beneath the folds of their morality, where friends and family and lovers were brought into the solutions, poverty and rich, perverted and chaste, sinner and saint, all of whom belonged to some faction of hope that still desperately existed from within the illusion. She didn't have anyone else she could confide to, no one at all that might even take hold of her pain and sadness, no one to even listen to her during her time of need.

There she stayed, in that art studio, in that hellish cage, forever entwined with Arthur's orders.

Pain erupted from her chest, black veins so easily caressing her collarbone, her lungs, her heart. Thoughts of enviable pity glazed over her brain, her mind overtaken by the fact that forgiveness had avoided her, that happiness dodged her like a plague among plagues. Once proud, narcissistic mindsets came from beneath her soul, despair likening with each past failure she reminisced from her mind.

She had no one.

There was someone outside. Someone was knocking. Someone was telling her about finding Queen Euphemia. Someone was out there, saying that they'll be fighting soon.

They'll be destroying everything in sight, while reclaiming Lord Mordred.

Someone was there. Someone was gone.

A lord came in. A lord was bowing to her, the same, threatening atmosphere established between the two silhouettes. A lord prepared the armies. A lord was smiling. A lord was awaiting her orders.

Another lord came in. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another.


	50. Chapter 50

Glass shards lay neglected throughout the floors, the shimmering windows now dead before his feet. Dust covered the corners, the silky, gossamer cobwebs disrupted by the plentiful ornaments of insects adorned upon the floor. The curtains hung tattered and torn, leaving behind rags that once captured that elegant, sophisticated playfulness the velvet shadows so happily entwined within it. The instruments had gone away, replaced by dust and rusted metal that could only stare back up at him helplessly, despair wrapping around the music it so vibrantly sought to create. Ivory piano keys hardened the abandoned atmosphere, scattered around the vicinity for which both he and C.C used to perform in, the harp strings entwined with the violins, creating a plethora of emotionless echoes that vibrated through the nostalgic air. The chandelier had broken, the crystals scattered everywhere, the golden mirror he came to admire shattered from the middle of the room.

But what he took care to see were the grey skies from above, the hints of crimson slowly claiming the immeasurable, hellish heaven that reflected back upon the land both its cruelties, as well as mercies. The ominous clouds struck the ballroom forebodingly, with a lonely breeze resounding from the walls. There was another storm was coming, one that would destroy the tiny, vulnerable shelter completely, a testament to the chaos that Lelouch allowed to get out of hand. The desolate beauty had come to an end, and rather than dancing to some shy, timid lullaby, silence dominated the cold, callous mood, the emptiness alone ruining the jubilance the fools somehow managed to create.

He walked toward the chandelier quietly. He reached out and toyed with the edges for a bit, the surface caressing the warmth he offered it, stealing it in a blink of an eye. Shadowy processions came circling forth around, their footsteps lightly moving to his own will, relaying memories that were only beginning to return.

Emptily, he smirked.

The moment Lelouch disappeared, Arthur had already declared war. Cries and pleas alone were enough for the immortal to settle his confusion, the very aspect of Arthur's unstable nature unraveling at the seams. Should anything ever happen to the ballroom, the pure, untainted refuge succumbing to decadence and scarlet, it meant C.C would fight alongside Arthur, not as the king's accomplice, but as his slave. If anything, she was probably the one who managed to track Lelouch down. He could already see the armies standing before the crowds of aristocrats, crying out desperately for a victory that was already assured, the enemy Knightmares growing stronger with each encounter made between defenseless and demons.

His hand dropped to his side, a few droplets of blood drawn away from the glass. Nunnally and Zero would personally be leading the armies, gathering the nations together to fight back at yet another common enemy. Cornelia backed the measure, along with the Chinese Federation and the UFN, all of whom poured the remainder of their funds to finishing off whatever humanitarian projects they had left, as well as fortifying the underdeveloped countries in the event Alfheimr tries to overtake those valuable, scarce resources. Armies were erected, citizens were evacuated, and now, all that's left was to sit back and wait, wait for the heroes to return, for the celebrations to begin. The entire world was there, cheering on soldiers who might as well have been killed in battle, leaders who have already crumbled underneath Arthur's pressure, volunteers who are already at the mercy of the enemy.

Euphie was probably with Suzaku, considering how confident Zero seemed up on the screen. More than likely she was the one who orchestrated the war, though of course, much of the fault lay with Arthur. She was guarding the Stonehenge and Kamine Island, but knowing her, she might've convinced Suzaku to station other troops across other former areas, preparing for yet another inevitable ambush. After all, she should've learned where the seemingly random attacks would be carried out, as well as the types of kamikazes being deployed. Still, since the Black Knights were being stationed in Tokyo, she might as well have already announced her presence.

 _You know how_ fucking _vulnerable you are in this stupid, miserable world?_

C.C was going to fight with Arthur. But judging from the ballroom alone, she was already unstable. Just a few more massacres and that'd be it. The heartbreak was seeping through her chest, her own, capable resistance slowly coming undone.

And he froze at the thought, the apprehension gripping his lungs with brutal anxiety.

 _Just a few months ago, you couldn't even_ walk _and_ now _you're gonna pull some_ fuck-ass stunt like this?!

The Zero Requiem worked, but only to such an extent. In the end, they were all still going through this. A lot of lives were going to be lost because of the Courts, all because of his own failure, because of Euphie's secrets, because of C.C's curiosity, because of Suzaku's unwilling stubbornness on leaving the past behind. They were all going to pay for it. He could practically see everyone now, scrambling for cover, doing whatever they could to wake themselves up from a nightmare that was barreling down at them. There was Rivalz, and Shirley, and Ms. Kozuki, even Kallen, all of whom stared out at that same, deathly grave.

 _Who the hell do you think you are anyways?!_

No one.

He clenched his fists. Nunnally was fighting. In a million years he never would've imagined his cute little sister fighting on the front lines, carrying the same, progressive rage Lelouch had before her. She was calm, poised, everything an Empress of Britannia should be, even if in the end, the world will ultimately judge her for it. Even if those pits of despair were staring back up at her, somehow, she was still going to struggle, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed, no matter how tightly Death embraced her. She was fighting, not for her sake, but for everyone else's. The fact that she could see, the fact that she could _walk_ was a testament to her will. She'd grown up. She's left him behind.

She didn't need him anymore.

And he was proud of that.

Off in the distance, Lelouch could hear the distant sounds of a bell tolling. They were familiar, those rings, the rings the people all dreaded to hear, rings that signaled yet another rebellion was going to be put down. He heard the people scrambling out of the way of the upcoming Knightmares, the animals cowering in fear at the thought of getting shot, the fairies all walking towards those executioners with an empty hope that somehow, the soldiers would all take pity on them and shoot. Towns were decimated, cities destroyed, the very centers of refuge now torn asunder by Arthur's own selfishness.

He closed his eyes. "Arthur," he asked quietly, "are you that eager to die?"

No answer.

"Do you honestly think that would make everyone happy?"

 _Come on Naoko!_

He stared off into the empty space, gripping the Guren key tightly in his hand. The skies were changing. He could practically hear the screams, the cries, piercing through the air, the soldiers already beginning their pleasant torments.

They were already invading.

 _Say something!_

He needed to meet up with Suzaku and Euphie. Rendezvous with them in Tokyo, then take out the Knightmares there. The Chinese Federation was fortified, and Britannia shouldn't have any trouble at all if Cornelia is there. The EU was going to be a bit of a problem however, and at that point, even with the Guren he wouldn't be able to make it there in time. Nunnally might have to prepare a countermeasure there, though it's possible she was already preparing for the sights.

As for Kallen, she'll probably have to hijack another Knightmare. Yes, she'll still be fighting but in the end, she won't have anything to do with this. Neither she, or her mother.

He couldn't help but laugh then, as he turned his gaze upwards.

"Euphemia," he called. "What're you going to do after this?"

He woke up, with a quiet, resonating determination setting from within his eyes. The first thing he heard was a barrage of bullets attacking the Guren.


	51. Chapter 51

"The Guren's been deployed?!"

"That's right," Rakshata said, the serious tone embedding the predicament at hand. "Right now, we're trying to track down its coordinates. You're going to have to use one of the older models-"

Kallen clenched her fists, as she stared down at the floor, her pilot uniform adorning her body in a fit of crimson rage. She bit her lip tightly, her azure eyes suddenly twisting toward the bookshelf. "Do you know who's piloting it now?"

"They aren't answering."

"Enemy?"

"No. In fact they're following Zero's exact instructions." Rakshata paused for a moment, before hissing, "They've taken a detour along the Shinjuku route. They're heading straight for Tokyo."

Kallen cursed, as she slammed her palms down on the bookshelf. "Do whatever you have to to stop it, but don't get anywhere near it! How's the-"

"The pilot knows what they're doing. It seems they're capable."

That's…impossible. Besides Naoko, no one else was here! Her mother wouldn't have entered, and the only reason why anyone would be here was because they were soldiers, or desperate citizens.

Then she froze.

Naoko was the only one here…

She bit her lip and stared back at her phone. Hastily, she dialed Naoko's number, her suspicions already coming a very alarming panic taking form in her chest. She clutched her heart, anxious for whatever Black Knight had come through. Much to her relief, someone answered. "M-ma'am?"

She gritted her teeth. "Where's Naoko Kozuki?"

A few minutes later, she threw the phone down and ran out of the house, the battlefield already raging ahead.

* * *

Euphemia flicked her eyes near Tokyo Tower, her own gaze watching the black Knightmares pouring out from thin air, making beelines towards the vulnerable settlement. She waited for a while, before launching ahead, her delicate hand fingering the controls. She fired the slash harkens and tore apart one of the Knightmares, before activating the energy wings to catch up with the remaining ones.

They weren't here to destroy Japan. If they were, there'd be little chance Lelouch would survive the attack, and Arthur wasn't going to risk it, however tempting it was. The very fact that the Black Knights, as well as the UFN, was here meant that if the king tried bringing in any other reinforcements, not only would Lelouch's chances of survival would diminish, but there'd be less opportunity to sneak back here and find the fool, should anything go awry. And yet all the same, he wasn't proceeding as carefully as Euphemia thought he would. The mistakes were sloppy, the openings were visible…was he giving up?

She took a deep breath, before shoving the Knightmare forward, clashing with one of the terrorist's pilots. There were two more Knightmares circling back, another one to the left. She smirked, tearing away the skeletal wings from her back, rushing toward the one in front of her. She dodged the missiles coming her way, and when she caught sight of the familiar, grey VARIS, she stopped, and activated the shield, folding her arms in front of her face as the bullets tore through the skies, ripping apart at the very seams. A split second later, she threw herself into the air and deactivated the energy wings. She shoved the thrusters, impaling the enemy Knightmare on its head, before reactivating the wings again, using the mechanized corpse as a shield against the other pilots.

She readied the dual swords, and swept through the air, cold sweat racing down her forehead. She grunted at the sudden force of a kick to her side, a stray missile grazing her arm so very neatly. Yet she managed to avoid the chaos mines settled near the tower, though the shields were down. Still, she lowered the defensive systems further and pushed herself onward, slashing the pilots in half. When she looked up, there were more circling around the horizon. Ella was out there, as was Suzaku.

"Suzaku-!"

 _Everyone's evacuated,_ he said frustratedly, the Lancelot flying within her view. _They didn't come from Kamine Island. There's another one nearby._

"The Sakuridite supplies?"

 _They've all been accounted for._

She bit her lip, as she aimed her sword for the next Knightmare nearby. The slash harkens damaged the float system, sending the Knightmare down a spiraling chasm of earth. However, it managed to regain its balance, and kept itself steady on the ground, both swords pulled out, and ready for fighting. It dared her to come in. It _egged_ her, mocked her, and when she swooped down, she destroyed it as easily as it came. She watched as the pilot forced evacuated, the tiny, white parachute already fading from the view. "Where is Lady Kaguya? What about Schniezel?"

She heard Suzaku hiss at the fighting, destroying whatever enemy was in sight. There was a chaotic noise in the background, followed by confused screams and cries. Her eyes widened. "When Lelouch was still with you, did he tell you anything about it?"

 _N-no. He hasn't. Damn it!_

There was another Knightmare to her left, all the others doing battle against the Black Knights. Todoh maneuvered his soldiers, into the fray, assuming that same, overpowering, fatal position as they decimated the enemy Knightmares one by one, creating an opening that only Suzaku could see. He took it, much to her relief. _I doubt he would tell someone something that confidential. What about C.C?_

She froze.

There was that power, from that day. That power, for which both she and Suzaku suffered from, that magic which turned their deaths from the inside out, slowly distorting their senses to the point where not even she could resist being repulsed. There was the mystery of where she could've gone, where she could've disappeared to. There was Arthur's obsession with the witch, an obsession so very similar to the way he'd been pursuing Lelouch.

She closed her eyes, before sweeping in alongside Todoh's Knightmare and taking care of any blind spots. "Fine then. Head to the Fuji Mountains and shut down the reserves. I'll deal with things here."

She could feel the uncertainty vibrate from his own, helpless brain, yet in the end, he deferred to her. _When will Arthur arrive?_

"When he thinks he's winning."

Euphemia narrowed her eyes, as she kept up with her assault, removing herself from the Black Knights and sweeping through Britannia's defense, decimating whatever enemy took shelter there, preparing yet another suicide attempt. She winced at the onslaught, and threw the Knightmare away from the encirclement, holding off the explosion protectively. If the man wanted to die, then let him, but she'd rather not take Ella with him. "Isn't that how it works?"

* * *

"Highness!"

"What?!"

"T-they're-!"

Cornelia grimaced at the assault, the sudden attack causing half her force to scramble around, the array alone decimating the main forces. She stared down at the fields, as her soldiers endeavored to regroup, all the while fighting away the enemy Knightmares. "Squad two, move to coordinate seven."

"Y-yes you Majesty!"

"Andrew, back squad six from behind."

"R-right."

She looked above at the onslaught, before readying her own Knightmare into the battlefield. Her eyes carefully followed their movements; left, then right, then toward the skies. They would usually come down with a thrust, then fire their slash harkens from that point. It seemed random enough; there were no traps laid out in the environment, at least from her perspective. Should Alfheimr try anything at all, they'd end up taking out their own soldiers, as well as Britannia's.

Cornelia swooped into the battlefield, catching sight of a procession of black Knightmares, all of whom were engaged in battle. With one swipe, she thrust her sword forward, then sliced the Knightmares in half, the wings desperately fluttering nearby. The flames destructively grazed the steel, as she reared back and defended her stray knights. The terrorists were slowly gathering around the soldiers, regrouping and coming down into a full assault.

She bit her lip. Zero had already relayed the strategies these pilots used. Kamikazes, the Japanese called them, suicide pilots that would draw their prey in with deception, before dragging both themselves and their intended victim to hell. It was a double-edged sword, a manipulative technique that captivated and disgusted her at the same time. But as long as she stayed away from the pilots, especially those with Sakuridite bombs strapped to their energy wings, then she should be fine. However, everyone, both she and the enemy, were using close combat strategies, and that alone placed her at a disadvantage. And unlike Alfheimr's terrorists, her own soldiers had something to live for; their loyalties weren't as drastic as the enemy's.

She grunted at the sudden force from behind, and turned the Knightmare around, swiftly dodging yet another Hadron cannon. She flinched at the advanced weaponry, before flying through the beams, dodging the bullets with a heavy, lavender shield. She readied her missiles and fired at the pilot, before discarding the VARIS and implementing the thrusters, causing the princess to surge forth and destroy the pilot's abdomen. She smiled satisfyingly, as she leapt away from the explosion, yet another group of Knightmares eyeing her midst.

"Sister."

She blinked, her focus sharpening from the moment she heard the familiar, stern voice. "Nunnally," she began calmly, as she prepared herself for yet another attack. "We were ambushed. We're dealing with the terrorists in Narita right now."

"Good. Once you clean up there, head to Kyushu and destroy the faction there. After that, back up Xing-ke in Vermillion."

"Right."

Cornelia turned her attention to the stubborn brats flying underneath her. She smirked then, her eyes steadying themselves to fit the callous remnants of whatever compassion Nunnally attempted to instill in her. "Squad seven," she ordered, "two o'clock."

She watched as the Glaston Knights destroyed the terrorists beneath.


	52. Chapter 52

Nunnally kept staring ahead, her fingers drumming impatiently upon that same, empty chessboard sitting in her lap. She stopped at the sight of yet another recurring ambush, and before long, she traced the movements frantically, the enemy dashing from one side to the next. She didn't think the war would occur this quickly, and at such a large scale. Most of the leaders were all still trying to grasp the fact they were fighting, and though many were trying to mobilize, in the end it was they who'd fall first. Major landmarks were already being attacked, and even when a majority of the terrorists' forces were concentrated in Tokyo, in the end the enemy's fortifying offenses proved to be quite a hindrance.

A few of Alfheimr's soldiers were heading to the Chinese Federation. From what she could tell, they were trying to take over Vermilion and establish that as their foothold. If they could plant their troops along the coast, it'd be easier to suffocate the nation from the outside, and with traces of corruption still lingering within the administration, even with the new formidable, moral politicians keeping the enemy at bay, the Empress couldn't help but wonder how long it'd be before the country succumbs to Alfheimr's pressure.

She narrowed her eyes. In front of her were former resistance members, all of whom present during Lelouch's own reign, all of whom supposedly talented generals from Charles's time. Schniezel stood beside them, carefully wandering over the global chessboard, his eyes coming up with new strategic points to deal with the terrorists. Her maids, meanwhile, were centered around the controls, their own skills piloting the Avalon expertly, and without mistake. The royal guard was flying near the ship, defending it and destroying the terrorists bit by bit, doing whatever they could to keep from seeing Nunnally's premature end. Everyone kept shouting orders to one another, doing what they had to to fend from enemy attacks, all the while striking back with their own, perilous fury. Their fingers typed quickly along the panels, instigating surprise countermeasures for the world's weary soldiers, taking cover underneath the fire and sending out missiles to address the Knightmares.

"Jeanette," Nunnally suddenly called, "assume Lotus position. Fire anchor."

"Right!"

She looked over to Schniezel. "How are our forces in Paris holding up?"

"We'll send reinforcements." He stopped then, yet another order from Ella coming through the speaker. He nodded, and calmly turned to Nunnally. "The terrorists are aiming for Tokyo Tower. Kozuki is stopping them right now."

"Fine." she said, her eyes scanning the skies for the enemy. The shields were operational. She knew they couldn't go any farther with her troops, for fear someone could blast away the Avalon with one blow. That little bug hasn't been fixed yet, and it was an aspect Nunnally found quite frustrating.

She fixed the receiver in her ear, as she calmly counted the red dots scattered from across the map. One by one, they were getting wiped out, but for every one foe that disappeared, two of her own would vanish as well.

These ambushes, the sudden attacks, how they keep appearing out of nowhere…where were they all coming from? Was their leader at Tokyo Tower? Is that why Suzaku wanted to aim for it? Yes, that was simple enough, but Nunnally knew full well there was another reason behind it, a devious motive that could've very well been the turning point of the battle.

What's more, there was the issue of the Sakuridite bombs latched onto the Knightmares. How Alfheimr got their supply, how they managed to bypass the codes and regulations…was something not even she could figure out. The Fuji Mountains were being dealt with right now, and Prime Minister Oghi was guarding them, with Lady Florence assisting him in his efforts.

She gritted her teeth, an impatient anger clouding her mind. A sudden change had come instantly before her, and with that, she removed the concern altogether. Fortifying comes first. "Schniezel, tell Zero that after he's done in Japan, he's to guard Sydney."

Nearly everyone looked up at her then, alarm entwined within their delicate features. Meanwhile, the maids clamored amongst themselves, their concentration breaking with brief interruptions of why, how, what. Even Schniezel seemed a bit perplexed. The generals started speaking up, screaming out their suggestions at Nunnally, adding little to no value in the otherwise tyrannical order.

Nunnally slammed her fists onto the chessboard, causing everyone to fall silent.

She stood from the throne, the board tucked under her arm, as she analyzed the globe, the generals steadily making room for her, though their own, aristocratic, rebellious nature still shown through the lights of their eyes. "Australia is a safe haven for the refugees." she explained calmly. "Alfheimr might try securing the coasts. They'll taking control of their shipments and turning every innocent person there into a hostage. We'd no choice but to surrender."

"Milady," one of the generals began.

"Do it." she said icily. Nunnally then swirled her head to one of the generals, who stiffened underneath her cold gaze. "I want you to contact my sister. Tell her to defend the Fuji Mountains, whatever the cost."

"But-!"

"Japan _hasn't_ been cooperating with the terrorists." She stated in a hard voice. "Oghi is one of our closest allies, and if Alfheimr secures the Sakuridite supply, the world will be at an incredible disadvantage. The terrorists want us to concentrate on Tokyo, remember that."

"R-right."

She turned back, a hard glare centered upon the small island. Her tiny fingers gripped the edge of the table, the action reminiscent of the callous way Britannia invaded Japan. Lelouch was there somewhere, in Japan, caught up along the fray. Kaguya had already evacuated everyone, yet in the end, there was still a small chance she could've missed someone, that single, improbably chance that someone was still out there, experiencing the horrors of the battlefield.

That person could be her big brother right now. He might just be standing there, asking whatever had happened to the peace he thought he'd left behind, the peace that was supposed to have brought everyone together. Euphie may be with him too, crying her eyes out at the disappointing failure their plans had turned to be.

She bit her lip. "Send more troops to England. Back Hitomi and the others. Tell Vladimir to go to Belgrade. Encircle the enemy and destroy them. Evacuate all citizens."

"Y-yes," one of the generals said timidly.

"We're losing ground in New Delhi," Nunnally murmured. As of this point, even the research facilities will be at stake. Production of Knightmares have already ceased, and unless Ms. Rakshata was willing to kill all the data for her "children" it seems the enemy might have the opportunity to get ahold of the Black Knights's military technology.

However, moments later, Britannian and UFN soldiers managed to intercept the terrorists. Immediately, her fears were left unfounded, something Nunnally took no comfort in.

Alfheimr had managed to surround Mexico, and was already cornering Britannian troops in Canada. The loyal pilots were fighting back against them, and though there was some success, she could already see the long list of casualties appearing before her, the funeral processions breathing down her neck. "Schniezel, what of Andreas's army?"

"They're holding on. I've sent them additional back-up; they've managed to decimate half of the enemy forces, but they're stranded."

She flickered her eyes towards him. "The F.L.E.I.J.A.S are not an option here."

"Right."

"Your Majesty!"

Suddenly, Nunnally was thrown to the ground, the breath quickly escaping from her body. She gasped in pain, the chessboard dropping to the ground at the instant. She bit her lip, struggling to sit up, the violent tremblings of the Avalon already commencing. She winced at the rumbling, though when she caught sight of the maids' alarmed expression, she forced down the pain. "What is it?" she demanded, as she stood from the ground, both hands on the map.

"I-I don't know. They've-"

"They took out our shields!"

And yet another attack pierced through Nunnally's ears. At that point, she grunted, holding herself steady amidst the chaotic turbulence. She hissed, before opening her eyes, trying to determine the source of their calamities. "What about the royal guard?!"

"They're taking out the remaining Knightmares. But…but-!"

"They've invaded!"

"The terrorists are here?!"

Damnit.

 _Damnit._

She clenched her fists, brushing aside the generals' shocked silence, ignoring Schniezel's calm as she attempted to call back the royal guard. Her fingernails dug into her side, a vigilant, frustrated frown tugging at her lips. She stayed that way for a while, quickly skimming through whatever meager choices were afforded to her, anything at all that could secure their lives, as well as their victory.

Finally, she looked down at her maids. "Contact Prime Minister Oghi," she commanded. "It seems we're going to need a new base."

* * *

The radiant wave surger clawed away the Knightmare, the blast ripping away at the steel plating that protected the Hadron cannons. Crimson waves erupted from the steel, and when he tore himself away, the rosette wings shattering the orange skies, the enemy Knightmare blew into tiny bits. Sharp feathers erected from the explosion, the sharp, grey things piercing through the fiery air. He pulled the energy wings and heard the clashes of the sharp edges, and from a distance, he could practically tell the chaos mines thundering through the battlefield, the plentiful bullets flying across the Knightmares throughout their vivacious lifelessness. From the screen, he could make out five more Knightmares headed his way.

Lelouch grunted, as he twisted the Guren away from its vulnerability. He readied the claws, and activated the thrusters, blurs of shapes callously coming away from him little by little, the very devastation alone causing the cockpit to vibrate tremendously. He narrowed his amethyst eyes, as he targeted the Knightmares with those troublesome, Sakuridite bombs strapped onto their wings. He grimaced then, when he caught sight of yet another Hadron cannon beam nearing his vicinity. He swirled around it, dragging out the slash harkens before taking out the enemy pilot. He took a deep breath, before charging in again, the Lancelot still absent from the action.

The Guren was a complex machine to pilot. There were times when Lelouch was almost killed simply because he was too busy trying to figure out the weapon system. The wings were hard enough as it was to operate, and though he managed to pilot the Guren, he was nothing compared to Kallen.. He wasn't even near the level of expertise Kallen had to operate the machine effectively, but nonetheless, it was necessary. After all, no one was going to listen to the tirade of a fallen Emperor on the battlefield, even if what he had to say was of the upmost importance. He might as well have been asking for a death sentence, should he take one step out of the Guren.

Though reading the manual might've been a smart thing to do.

Lelouch scanned the battlefield, eyeing an array of Black Knightmares aiming their swords at him. They were all charging toward him, their guns all firing, the sounds of metal grinding against each other if only for the tiny desperation of taking out the Ace of the Black Knights. He threw the machine down and flew near the ground, the radiant wave surger already at full power. He narrowed his eyes, before coming up again, swiftly demolishing the Knightmares piece by piece, the tiny explosions trailing from behind. He caught sight of an upcoming enemy and stopped, reaching out his claw before grabbing the sword that needed to strike him down.

Lelouch looked down at the screen, a sweat drop coming down his forehead. He threw himself away and flourished the wings, all the while regarding the pilot evenly. His finger nervously hovered over the radiant wave surger, his hands tightly gripping the controls. So that was it; the new model.

Neither Sirius nor Tristan nor any of the other resistance groups could stand up to something like that. Judging from the frame alone, armor had been refitted for maneuverability, and if he zoomed in on the screen, he could make out the hidden blades from around the legs. The skeletal feathers were still there, ready and waiting for some unfortunate prey to come forward and offer its pathetic sacrifice. The guns were all present, four on each arm. Unlike the others, there were no Sakuridite bombs latched onto it, though the thought of those suicide pilots alone proved enough of a hassle. The shields were similar to the Shinkiro's, meaning that if the pilot needed to attack, they were going to have to lower the defenses. That alone was probably Lelouch's only chance to attack; he doubted the Guren had enough power to destroy that shield altogether.

He suddenly flung back in his seat. He yelped, before opening his eyes, the pilot now demolishing the Guren.

He cursed, before grabbing the controls and pulling up the claw. The slash harkens beat at the skull, while the claw grabbed one of the swords entrenched in the arm and, with one push, shattered it instantly. The VARIS immediately came toward the Knightmare, firing a barrage of bullets, a majority of them missing the intended target. However, the pilot launched back and readied its swords, ready to defend against the attack.

"Q1, head for the Tower. Finish them off from there."

Suzaku.

He clenched his teeth, glaring at the radio, all the while the Knightmare rushed toward him, two swords in its hands. He hissed, before dodging the attacks, doing whatever he could to stay out of range. The claw came forward, as he swept underneath the left arm and, with one blast, tore away at the arm. He narrowly avoided yet another fatal assault, and came underneath the Knightmare. He activated the thrusters then, and shot upwards, slashing the pilot in half.

"Q1."

Lelouch blinked down, before abandoning the enemies altogether, leaving them to the mercy of Cornelia's troops. "Fine," he said, Kallen's voice bouncing off from his eardrums.

Tokyo Tower, huh? Arthur was probably using the communication lines to feed orders to his own soldiers. Perhaps Euphemia wanted to feed the enemy false information, or even Kaguya, who might as well have been trying to calm the panicked citizens. More than likely it was more war propaganda, the media targeting Alfheimr as yet another source behind the calamities the world had to suffer from.

He shot the Guren through the sea of black, the shapes once more fading away from his hazy speeds. He ripped apart the torso, the bright, orange scarlet following him from around the smoke. The screen cleared away, revealing an army of Black Knights following through with their orders. He took a deep breath, and started towards the Tower.


	53. Chapter 53

Euphemia gasped painfully, the sudden sharp sting grabbing hold of her ribs. She gripped the controls tightly, a hazy grimace entrenched on her face, as she looked down, streams of devastation covering every inch of the once proud city. Desecrated Knightmares littered the streets, their equally useless pilots lying beside them, so broken, so pathetic. She dared not stare down at the plentiful limbs lying beneath, the nameless memorials that people would have already started walking over, nary a concern nor worry on their face. Bullet shells were shattered along the eroding pathways, and throughout the static, sounds of heavy fire and curses resounded throughout the Knightmares. Fields of screams came bursting from the distance, and if she closed her eyes, and listened quietly along the fray, she could make out the noises of a quietly sobbing child along the crimson intwine.

She stiffened, clenching the controls, before making out a familiar, unwanted shadow coming from above, dodging yet another collision with Arthur's forces. Slash harkens raced past her, the metal nearly grazing the Knightmare's torso. She threw away her damaged swords and swept downwards, tearing off yet another pair of feathers. She shoved the thrusters forward, dragging the defense systems lower and lower until finally, she was defenseless. She grunted, as she tugged the shifts upwards, impaling the pilot with the feathers. From the corner of her eyes, she stole a peek at the wings; no bombs either.

Arthur was letting more troops into this world. They were swarming all over the gates, and though this area was clear, more of Arthur's forces will arrive soon. Judging from their numbers alone, it seems it'd be quite some time before the Black Knights manage to secure the Tokyo area. As the fairy scanned the skies, trying to make out even the slightest glimpses of black, her fingers tapped rhythmically the seconds before the next wave appeared. She still had some time before Arthur came, and Kozuki should be here any minute now. With the sinful humming from outside the Knightmare, it looks like Euphemia didn't have to go to Kamine Island after all.

She smirked, as she looked down at the energy gauge. Arthur's released all these soldiers into the world. The gates were opening wider and wider, already giving Euphemia glimpses of her beloved Courts. The familiar scenes of destruction laid barren for her, the stubbornness tragedy held immediately tossed away in contempt. She growled, as she launched herself away from the air and toward the cracks. With one, fluid motion, she forced herself through the openings, decimating her own, sickening emotions completely.

Every minute she spent here she could feel her own obsessions spike. She took a deep breath, holding back those murderous urges she had from before, as she raced ahead, Ella once again shouting orders to the troops. She looked up then, a dark, suppressive gaze surrounding the battlefields. She could feel the magic pulse through her veins, her own, thoughtless emotions surging throughout her system, bringing with it a strange, chaotic relief. Writhing madness swept her away, the very sensation of falling so readily coming back to her, the kind, gentle, compassionate girl everyone knew instantly disappearing before her eyes.

Euphie was crumbling away.

Her blanched knuckles trembled in anticipation, the sinful spells and charms immediately tearing away at her organs. She cried in pain, though she bit her tongue to keep from screaming any further. Blood flooded her lungs, and the stench of rotting flesh filled her nostrils as she struggled to remain conscious. A deep seated pain resonated from the depths of her heart, the organ struggling to break free from the veins and arteries securing its survival. Black coated her vision, and scars long forgotten now came past her own, pathetic weeping.

She could feel the bullet tearing through her chest, her reflection staring back at her through the Zero mask. She could feel the tears cascading down her cheek, as her own, precious knight begged her not to leave, pleading that she stay in this twisted world, if only to ensure a peace that would never have lasted. She could feel the dark tendrils clawing away at her organs, Arthur's desperation bringing her to an accursed society she somehow managed to create. She could feel her own loneliness building from inside, the isolation taking its toll along the lines of her calm generosity.

Those gardens flashed her eyes, the one she desecrated, the one she left behind, for the sake of some vain goal she wasn't even allowed to accomplished. False promises swirled around her, that nightmarish concept called love already turning away the ugliness of that demonic being she catered to. Insanity flourished underneath her touch, the lovelessness of it all grazing her beloved with the slightest of kisses, the embraces, the caresses. Genuine sorrow coated her pride, the haughtiness breaking underneath the pressure of Suzaku's emotions, the burdens alone enough to suffocate her. Lelouch's pleas fell upon a sea of noise, drowned out by the vain prayers she called onto herself. C.C's warning became little more than a dry, crusted enmity for which Euphemia could base her illogical reasoning upon.

Hands outreached, she started to enter through the Courts. Rather than the hell, she only felt ice, the cold weaving its way through her system without the slightest hesitation. A light that was willing to forgive anything, an innocence that forgot whatever evil deeds she held so dearly from before; Euphemia could only stare at such an existence, her undoings traveling along the shallow attractions she had for one object to another. Friends, family, lovers and the like; they came away from her.

Memories of amiability unraveled. Tiny hopeful lights vanished one by one, and as she continued through, her kingdom's depressive cries reached her effortlessly. All the happiness she destroyed happened for their families as well, the mirrors stared back at her so obviously, horrendously, encouraging every false witness to stand before trial, to pressure the judge into casting aside some vague notion called justice along the ruined, forgotten trash.

Each child carried with them their own empty promises, albeit a few truths mixed in with those heathen lies. Time slipped past their hands, and she watched as their petite frames chased after it, their efforts unrewarded, their arrogance punished by whatever authority had settled upon them. There was Lisette, somewhere in the mix, as was her friends. There they were, all crying, screaming, mocking the dangerous soldiers with those hateful tongues of theirs. Lorraine was there, as was Nathaniel. Sirius, Mab, even Luzhin; all mocked Arthur's knights, tearing them down bit by bit, even if their worthless sacrifices were forgotten.

And at that moment, it was all gone.

Euphemia closed her eyes, and fell.

* * *

Arthur gazed out at the scarlet clouds, arms outstretched, a smile on his thin, decadent, blueish lips. Eyes emptied, with a cold touch barely grazing the tips of his fingernails, he watched as that relaxing, immature blue slowly unraveled, undoing itself by every swing his own, far away pendulum made. Haunting melodies from which the bell murmured started to come forth, the ringings so painfully weaving through the kingdoms he's so happily ruined, the juries the king jubilantly valiantly decimated.

The royal guard was leaving the routes Sirius so graciously established. Tokyo was already under siege, and with just a bit more pressuring, sure enough, perhaps the former settlement will fall. Both the Black Knights and the Britannian forces were stubborn as usual, but though the pilots were more experienced, more skilled, in the end it would be his win. The boy was already out on the battlefield, wasn't he?

As was Guinevere, and Morgan was to join soon. Lancelot had already left, much to his disappointment, but it couldn't be helped; the Sakuridite supplies had to be watched over. Funny; it seems the Empress was abandoning the Avalon. Where was she, he wondered? Where was that stupid little bitch?

Cornelia li Britannia was gaining the upper hand in Narita. Tianzi was making a stand not in Vermillion, but along the shores of the Chinese Federation. Ah well: Guinevere sealed openings already, so using the dead ends again was probably just another waste of time. She's also managed to weave her way through the labyrinth, so in another minute or two, she might try and sneak in and kill him. But with the violence she's already amassing, she should have no problem completely destroying the barrier, and with his defenses practically nonexistent, he might not even try to hide. Already he could feel the magic slipping between her elegant hands, those demonic motives taking effect along her once pure, uncorrupted soul.

He kept dancing around the dead grass, tiny bits of glass settled beneath the unopened blossoms. Light footsteps crunched the painful surfaces, the morbid colors engulfed in a sea of orange and red so nonchalantly racing toward here now. Ancient oaks were blackened by his putrid disgust, the withered leaves now helplessly scattered along the torrential, violent winds nearing the kingdom. Homes neglected, hearths abandoned, the tiny residents from every forest nearby were desperately endeavoring to escape, doing whatever they could to, at the very least, live a bit longer.

Sickening rays lay over his cracked flesh, and age-old wounds revealed themselves to the fullest of magnificence gores, past wars and battles alike finally arising from his long, damaged mind. Agony filled the air dreadfully, the long-awaited despair finally taking hold from beneath his chest. Blood seeped from his dry lips, his magnificent robes little more than curtains to hide the tragic storyline that was just barely peeking out from his white, tainted armor. Wide eyes kept laughing at the scenes around him, the peace that had long since been ruined by one perpetrator or another.

And along with that, graves of dearly beloved comrades erected themselves one after the other, voicing their protests at the nightmarish scheme, pleading that he be rescued before his own self-pity finally consumes him, casting him down a chain of nothingness. No friend or enemy, happiness or anger, and not even those tiny, idiotic traces of immaturity could possibly find him there.

Nothing at all, but the ravaging turbulence of darkness.

What loneliness? What sadness? What could they have possibly been talking about? No, he wasn't anything like that. He was ecstatic, overjoyed, ready to cast down the already eroding insanity he's kept for so long, the delusions he's nursed instantly calling him back to some illusion he's managed to carve for himself after all this time.

Smiling faces. Children playing. Dancing dreams.

Laughter.

A soft twinkle in the twilight. Flowers in the breeze. Lullabies singing. Innocent shadows around the campfire. Summer's humidity. Tiny insects crawling up their arms. Merciless teasing and fighting. A restless slumber for tomorrow's adventure.

Five silhouettes coming around the veil.

Four shadows all burning in hell.

The king wrenching in a fit of despair.

No gracefulness, loveliness, or care.

Arthur smiled, as he shattered the pitiful illusions he so desperately clung to. His eyes closed, breathing in the flames so readily coming close, as he listened to the screams and the cries, the moans and the prayers. There they all were, a repertoire of witnesses, so readily claiming their own testimonies, all of hoping to send the king away. They held mallets in their hands, with those white, stupid wigs he'd usually see a lord or two wear around the castle. Bodies were identified, the evidence was mounting, the sentence was read.

What did it say?

"Guilty."

His arms came emptily to his side, a satisfied grin replacing the immaturity lightly enchanting his lips. He swayed from side to side, the devastation instantly claiming his attention as one by one, his soldiers fell to the hands of the enemy. The bombs were already exploding, destroying the stragglers who refused to leave their loved ones behind, as well as the naive pilots who decided to try and capture his own knights. Limbs fell away left from right, a steady trail of flames immediately cascading from one corner of the world to another. Slowly but surely, the barrier was crumbling, his influence coming away from the decadent aristocrats as they try and combat a queen they've never seen, a creature they couldn't even begin to understand. A few of them were storming the throne room right now, trying to force Arthur's protection.

What amusing fools they all turned out to be.

"Guilty," he repeated emotionlessly. "I'm guilty."


	54. Chapter 54

Kallen tore through the graveyard of mechanized corpses, crimson bangs distorting her vision as she ran through the fiery war zone. Cautiously, she gazed around for any remnants of the scarlet leftovers from the constant battles, her lips sealed tightly for fear she'd be found. Sharp, blue pupils scanned over the crimson atmosphere, her own, vulnerable sights now taking form within the Akatsuki relic she forcefully piloted.

She grimaced at the creaks, at the suspicious rusted corners lingering nearby, at the strange smell permeating from the seats. Though it was in good condition, it was slow; no doubt it'd be useless should Alfheimr attack, but it was the only thing available for something as brash as this. That vulnerability, of course, it did little to alleviate her frustrations. Anger radiated from her grip as she sped the archaic Knightmare toward the destruction, all the while replaying the security cameras from Ashford.

Naoko actually did it.

 _He stole the fucking Guren._

How he managed to even _control_ the thing was a damn _mystery_ to Kallen. She didn't leave a manual anywhere, and it wasn't like he got the instructions from just _anyone_ ; as far as Kallen could tell, she was the only pilot. Besides the key, there was nothing else she could've left behind. Neither her mother or Gino had any access to the Black Knights, and even then she sincerely doubted they'd willingly allow Naoko to get involved. Did Zero have something to do with this? No; there's no way he'd let a prize like that go to the front lines, and with the Guren, of all things.

She cussed, as she pressed farther ahead. She scanned the skies, searching for Black Knights, for Britannian soldiers, for anyone. She could make out vague silhouettes from behind the smoke, the tiny, burning flames gathering around the machines. Steel gleamed cruelly down toward the desecrated earth, all the while making way for a tainted judgement to occur. She paid attention neither to has nor devastation, brushing aside easily the ruinous memories for which the terrorists left behind. If she did, she could only stop, and imagine desperately where the boy might be, where he might be hiding, what he could be doing right now.

Zero's words echoed from the back of her brain, and she stopped.

She slammed her fist down on the control panels. Naoko wasn't a traitor. He couldn't possibly be working for Alfheimr, and he wasn't the type of person that could stomach lying. Her mother even went to the _police_ and they _still_ couldn't identify him. No one at the university would report him either, and no sane person would stage a hostage situation just because he looked like Lelouch.

And as for Mordred, no one needed to know about that. As long as Naoko stayed the way he was, no one would bother him. It'd take a while, but people would eventually see that, right? He was just…a normal kid.

She clenched her fists. " _Where the hell are you_?" she muttered.

"Hello?"

Kallen flickered her eyes toward the radios. She stiffened, as she continued on. This Knightmare was supposed to be on display; all wireless receivers should've been removed. Was it just another prop the actors used to direct them? What'd they think this was, a musical? "Who is this?" she demanded.

There was silence for a bit. Kallen was about to speak again, when the voice answered, "A friend to his Majesty Mordred."

Mordred.

Kallen pressed forward, quietly skimming through the rubble if only for a glimpse of Naoko. That name, as well as Lelouch's memory, were perhaps the only thing standing in the way between the boy and a normal life. If only the world forgot about things like that, about the Zero Requiem, maybe he could actually do something here. Maybe he could find a place here without prejudice, fit into a crowd without the slightest reluctance. No matter where he'd go, people would give into his warmth, his golden orbs alone enough to draw anyone in.

So why?

"I've no idea who that is," she answered coldly. "Go bug someone else."

The voice laughed quietly. "I know where he is."

" _Look-"_

"Go to Tokyo Tower, and wait until the sun sets. I'm sure you'll find something there."

"Who the hell is this?!"

"You should hurry," the stranger taunted softly, that tinkering tone resounding from the cockpit. "It's not every day you get to see a performance like this."

* * *

Slash harkens beat back the enemy Knightmares, with bright energy wings effectively slicing the pilots into two. Helpless screams bombarded the air, all of which fell to the lonely grounds aimed below. Suzaku aimed his VARIS at the mines. Moments later, bullets flared, the entrance to the Sakuridite mines closed off, trapping whoever intruders were left inside. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze sliding over to the phone strapped on his right ear. "End them."

"R-right!" one soldier eagerly shouted, before cutting off.

Suzaku settled back in his seat, watching the Black Knights take the counteroffensive, fending bravely against Alfheimr's attacks. He threw the Lancelot out as bait to lure away any strays. At this rate, they'll finish in Japan before things get chaotic. If Cornelia manages to secure Narita, they'll be able to push on to the Chinese Federation and assist Tianzi there. Kaguya will come up from behind and assist the refugees in Tokyo, while Nunnally fends off against the other surprise ambushes. The royal guard should already be deployed.

As for Euphie, she should be in the Courts, and Arthur's reinforcements should be arriving any time now. Cornelia should be able to handle them, considering it'd most likely be aristocrats and desperate, fallen monarchs, trying to reclaim their former glories. As long as no refugees come outside the evacuation zones, everything should be fine.

He took a deep breath, as he thrust the Lancelot forward, striking down the black Knightmares with sharp accuracy. Flames breeze past the white machine, and with his sword, he begins sweeping through the skies, taking out whatever enemy was left. One by one, they all fell before him, bits of metal scattered everywhere. He could see the smoke arise from the air, turning the once proud, beloved Fuji Mountains into nothing more than a wasted landfill, one without trash bins or incinerators, not even a power plant to remember the dead who've so helplessly fallen. He could practically see the nonexistent mourners now, playing on a field of corpses, so ever blissfully ignorant of the mistakes breezing past them.

What a way to start a new, peaceful era.

"Z-Zero!"

"What is it?" he asked, catching sight of the familiar shade of pink in his bangs. "Well?" he prompted, after a few moments of silence.

"It's…it's the Britannians…!"

"What happened?"

"They've…wait! Wait-!"

The line cut off.

Suzaku's eyes widened alarmingly. He halted the Lancelot's progression, the enemy no longer a threat, as he swirls to the side. "Hey! Come in! What's going on?!"

Haunting static gave way to his frustrations.

Suzaku bit his lip, as he stared down at the screen, tracking the Britannian's positions. One by one, they kept disappearing, as did the Black Knights and UFN forces. No new enemies lay in sight, nothing at all that warranted his attention. No landslides, no traps, nothing showed up.

Suddenly, the Britannians started reappearing again.

He narrowed his eyes. They're moving out of Narita? He blinked at the dreadful sense immediately claiming the atmosphere, the nightmarish feel already coming to. The reinforcements were already here?

He gripped the controls. "Todoh!"

"Zero, we're almost finished in Tokyo."

"I need you to come to the Fuji Mountains to secure the Sakuridite supplies. Have you any word from Cornelia."

"No. Why? What's-?"

That same, disturbing, grinding sound erupted from the background. He could here his former teacher gasp painfully, and with that, communication ceased. He stared at nothing for only a split second, before slamming the Lancelot into the air, soaring into the clouds as to try and catch a glimpse of what was happening. All the while, his eyes bore the screen.

Cornelia's forces were surrounding the Black Knights. One by one they kept disappearing. Muffled, shocked voices kept piercing his eardrums, insults of traitorous curses dying out within the last minutes.

He froze.

"Zero!" he heard one, desperate voice cry. "It's the Britannians! They're attacking Tokyo!"

 _Dammit._

And just like that, he heard Cornelia's voice.

"Zero," her calm, resigned tone said softly, the weary war veteran coming through her instantly ancient experience.

"Cornelia!" he shouted, as he forced the Knightmare forward, searching the skies for the Britannians. "What's the meaning of this?! Why're you-?!"

"The Avalon…has fallen."

* * *

The burning skies overhead masked a sea of scarlet judgement. Light rosette clouds intwined with a bright, vibrant orange, a dark azure edging from the background. The scent of gunpowder wrapped around his nose, and as his purple orbs scanned the surroundings, he could see no new enemy nearby. Carefully, he stepped away from the Knightmare, before racing toward the window, his palms flat against the surface. The scenes were so very familiar, like that of his memories.

Euphie had already gone to the Courts, judging from the sickening, corrupted air the humidity gave off. Hatred reigned the king's magic, and with the sensation so painfully seared into his mind, he sat at the panel, and looked down, the untouched equipment arousing suspicion. He looked up and surveyed his surroundings; he didn't see any Knightmares here, nor were there any traps nearby. This point was perhaps just another strategic measure for Euphie, and in the end, one she couldn't afford to lose.

He smirked, before sitting down and turning on the computers. The Guren gazed down at him carefully, his own reflection immediately entwining with that of he red gleam it gave off, portraying the battles it fought, the damage it took, if only for the sake of one, worthless pilot. It treated Kallen well, it seems, and though there were times when the stubborn thing refused to work, in the end the machine was a perfect fit for her. He had about four hours before the tracking system activated, and by then, he should already be away from here. There was another crack nearby; he only had to wait a little longer before the rift opened completely.

He sighed, before coming back into the machine. He grabbed hold of the cable and ascended, watching the withdrawing scene altogether. Once again, darkness surrounded him, and he turned around, the heat of adrenaline slowly exiting his system. Cold sweat came down his forehead, as he waited silently for any sign of the Knightmare to awake. The screen revealed the remainder of the attack force. Slowly, he placed the cellphone against his ear and came into the communication lines. Squad seven needs back up, and the new forces won't get there in time. He took a deep breath, and said, "Fall back to the art galleries."

The panicked men instantly came on, nervous clamoring piercing through the static. Finally, one coherent sentence managed to come through. " _Who the fuck is this?!_ "

"Orders from Zero," he stated calmly.

Reluctant tension filled the air, as the man contemplated as to whether or not he should believe the stranger. Lelouch blinked, as he stared back down at the screen. Though it was a small faction, to think the Britannians managed to cause this much damage. It won't be long before the spell spreads fully, a disease among diseases, infecting its victims one by one before they all succumb to Death. The curse was a lot more powerful than Vivien's, to say the least; what she infected Kallen and the others with was but a fifth of the power Arthur secured.

At last, they moved, much to his relief. He could hear them hurriedly scrambling out of the scenes, doing whatever they could to follow Zero's proxy. Lelouch stared at the screen, tracking their movements carefully while making out new plans in the event the diseased decided to call in reinforcements.

Cornelia was probably dealing with the same thing in Narita. Arthur's already told him how she used the woman to attack Nunnally, how broken her will was from the moment her unborn child died, how desperately she clung to life when Guilford fell. It was easy to take over, but for now, if she believed the war against Alfheimr a better choice than giving into her own turbulent emotions, she wouldn't succumb to those torrential pressures. Suzaku was going to have to help her later.

"Cross the tunnels. Enemy at four o' clock."

"R-right."

"Fire slash harken. Destroy the east and south entrance. Surround and destroy."

"W-wait!" one of the men suddenly protested. "W-what about-?"

"They aren't your comrades," Lelouch stated, as he leaned back in his seat. He folded his arms, knowing full well the psychological toll along their morals. It was a clever ploy; lure in fallen aristocrats from the Demon Emperor's reign, as well as humiliated lords from the Chinese Federation, and trap them in the Courts. Give them everything they could possibly ask for, and provide incentives for them to stay by your side. Chain them down with sweet whispers of camaraderie and friendship, and do everything to please them. Build them up until they sit atop a crumbling pedestal, one where should they disappoint you, you could take away immediately, mercilessly. "Shoot them down."

"Y-yes…"

He blinked, following the familiar formations that'd begun taking form. Arthur used to do this outside his cage, playing with stones and sticks he stole from some random child of the streets. The battle plans were thoughtfully laid out, and if it weren't for his emotional dependence, the king could've become an incredible general. "Make your way to the point 8. Route 6." He squinted his eyes then. "One of you go to the outside courtyards."

He instantly shifted the screen toward the combat units, where the dwindling Black Knights came to view. Britannian forces were fighting amongst themselves, and as of this point, it was impossible to tell friend from foe. Their IFFs gave him no indication of who was who, and all their psyches were too unstable. If the Guren came, it'd probably add to the chaos, since Kallen's affiliated with both Nunnally and Zero. Her loyalty would come into question, and there'd be more deaths than there had to be. The world would even undermine its own ruling then against Alfheimr. Was it time to leave yet?

He returned to the cameras, all the while eyeing the computers nearby. No. Until Euphie came back, both he and Suzaku had to deal with things here. But that stupid fool was in the Fuji Mountains, and if anyone saw the Guren now… Apart from that, if he contacted Suzaku now, there was a good chance someone could trace that call.

He bit the inside of his cheek. All Black Knight forces were scattered, and UFN soldiers were being attacked. Britannians were still trying to distinguish themselves as allies, but with all the recent activity, no one would believe them. Nunnally will suffer because of this.

This really was bad.

An eerie shadow overcast along the bend. He looked up, and saw a Hadron Cannon's beam aimed right toward him.


	55. Chapter 55

Euphemia stumbled out of the cockpit, the already hot air enveloping her body lustfully. The flames died away from her vision, her own relief racing toward her so very easily. She pressed her hand against the Knightmare's rotting surface, as she heaved, the cruses barely starting to leave her system. Smoke surrounded her eyes, as her lungs shoved out the carbon monoxide her blood just tried taking in. Flesh wounds decorated her legs, the crimson contrasting greatly to her blanched skin, though somehow, her tattered dress managed to hide the exquisite ash. She gripped her forehead tightly, as she looked toward the skies, the fast movements hidden behind a veil of clouds. She could feel the damaged barrier closing up again, allowing no further reinforcements to come through.

She got in.

She turned around, surveying the twisted forests. Withered embers decimated leaves, and mushrooms were seared off the branches. Everything, roots, branches, trunks, acorns, seedlings, blossoms of every shape and size; they were all burned, replaced by a grayish black dust, a pathetic thing she could kick around. Somewhere along the dirt path, she caught sight of the very sorrowful remnants of cremated bodies and half eaten pets, all of whom skeletal frames protruded. Tiny bits of organ coated the vicinity, leaving nothing more than makeshift coffins for both humanity and nature to sleep in. The tenebrous night did little to cover their pathetic states, and though a slight frown smeared her lips, she managed to tear her eyes away from the ruins. The devastation wasn't new anymore.

She twisted her her torso, and tried catching sight of the Courts. The magic was putrid enough that Euphemia could sense Arthur pouring his will out from the barriers. His agony, his pain, his suffering, concepts she neither wanted to nor was able to understand, echoed from across the realms. His emotional pleas shook her very core, his howls sending vibrations down her weary bones. Yes, that was it. If she followed the pain, she'd find the king.

She closed her eyes. Her senses were being deluded here. If she exuded anymore power, Arthur would know someone snuck across. But she still had that far reaching, from the Courts to that reality floating somewhere between despair and mercy, and in it, she could feel a growing warmth resurfacing from the background.

It was that person again, the one fairy she left alone. The atmosphere seemed more and more familiar by the minute, yet at the same time, a different air took up with it. A deep, dark miasma corrupted that innocence, but other than that the soul remained untainted. Defenseless, helpless, doing little to stop the dreamlike illusions surrounding those crude, sickening gazes, that tiny presence was swept away in the aftermath of a crimson predicament, one Euphemia knew all too well.

She smirked, as she away her frustrations then. Suzaku was fighting the reinforcements, as was Ella. Nunnally was directing from behind, but her usually calm demeanor was flurried, panicked. It was only a few minutes later did her little sister settle down, and once again, assume her commanding air. Euphemia heard the betrayed cries and crisp, haughty insults of race and tradition, along with traitorous remarks and poisonous decadence. It wasn't long before her connection ceased altogether, her presence forcefully dragged away from Suzaku's mind.

So that was it. He was using the Britannians.

She clenched her fists. She stood there for a moment, before starting toward the magic, rage burning within her eyes.

* * *

Nunnally scanned the screen profusely, her fingers surrounding the shadows nearby. Brown strands fell over her eyes as she did so, light amethyst orbs analyzing every bit of the map. One by one, she saw the Narita forces attacking their own, Britannian slaughtering Britannian, and all the while the Black Knights fended off the surprise ambush. She gritted her teeth, her fingers tightly clutching the controls. "Lady Kaguya!"

"N-Nunna!" the chairwoman stammered, the plethora of confused cries sounding behind her. "W-what's-?"

"I'll explain later," she reassured sarcastically. "Right now, send troops to Perth. I'll order my guards to back you up there."

"W-wait! What about Darwin's ports?!" she screamed. "Our forces are already devoted to evacuating the refugees. If we move them now-!"

Nunnally flickered her eyes down at the screens. This was bad; she was going to have to send Jeanette and Rose down there to help Kaguya. As for Tianzi, she'd have to send another six, and that that'd only leave so much to back Tokyo's recapture. The Zero Squad was nearing Vermillion, and Kallen was supposed to be stationed at Tokyo Tower. Narita must be secured then, else the checkpoints would already be a death sentence. If they were going to have any chance, she had to send the royal guard to back them up.

But that'd leave her completely defenseless…

Her personal Knightmare hovered near the Fuji Mountains. Her dark lavender gaze stared down at the mess, the entrance to the mines sealed off by the rubble and trees alike. That's right; Oghi contacted her just hours before, telling her that Zero ordered the attack. Multiple factions are coming here to secure the Sakuridite supplies, so for the time being, she maintained control of the supplies. That must mean Suzaku was with Ella right now, trying to eliminate the rouge soldiers.

Nunnally bit the inside of her cheek. One of the maids told her about something like this, Veronica she believed. The strategy centered around emotional vulnerability; the more confused someone was, the easier it was to possess them. And, psychologically speaking, farther away they were, the less likely they'd break control. That aspect was like geass in that respect, except the damage seemed so surreal she couldn't help but wonder if her brother's power could've been just as powerful.

She highly doubted it.

"Ella," Nunnally ordered. "Ella!"

Still no response.

The Empress sat back. Arthur used that trick on her sister the last time. What that man was trying to accomplish, she couldn't tell. Aside from the irritated rage she felt from Arthur's callous cruelty, she couldn't understand what he wanted from her, what he wanted from Lelouch. Was it pride? Maybe selfishness? Did he want to recreate the world in his own image? Did he want to destroy it? What of morals? How did he feel about them?

She scrutinized the screen. No matter what she did, she couldn't get in touch with Kallen even though the Guren was still there, waiting at the tower. But then again, no enemy could've possibly founded her, since she was so far from the battlefield. What's more, the signals should've kept her hidden, and even if she did encounter a few Knightmares, her skill alone would've been enough to destroy them.

"General Todoh."

No answer.

She clenched her fists. The Black Knights were holding their own against the Britannians, but little by little, they were losing ground. "Veronica!" she screamed.

"Y-yes!" the maid squeaked.

"Fire anchor! Remain in position for five seconds, then move to the left flank!" she shouted. Hastily, the tiny dot squirmed over the board, doing whatever it could to obey her order. Nunnally watched carefully as the Britannians fell, reduced to mere ashes upon the already ruined battlefield. She took a deep breath. "Mary, assist Oghi! Go to point 407, then smash through the enemy forces!"

"R-right! Wait, what about-?!"

"You all agreed to it!" she pressed. "If they resist, destroy them!"

"M-milady!" the fairy stated, before shutting down.

"Rosette, assist in securing the Sakuridite supplies. After that, assume Harvest formation. Analyze enemy attack patterns, then secure anyone left, enemy or ally. Jeanette, Rose, go to Darwin's ports and back up UFN soldiers. I've already sent you the projected routes, understood?"

"Yes," they both piped.

"Sarah, you stay with me. I want you to go to where Kozuki is and ensure her safety. The rest of you, go to the Chinese Federation and fight off the invasions. Schniezel, deploy the royal guard and assist Kaguya in Australia. Any remaining forces must be sent to the EU."

And with that, they all vanished from her sight, leaving Nunnally behind, engulfed in scarlet hellfire. She stared down at the screen once again. Suzaku was leading the troops out of Narita, all the while ambushing the brainwashed pilots and forcing back the enemy advances. She couldn't see Cornelia's Knightmare anywhere. Had she defected too?

"Mary," she began slowly, "finish them off, then move south toward the Korean Peninsula. Clear route 329, and maneuver to point A. Repeat that process. If you find any of our soldiers, you are to order them to retreat. I want you all to do the same."

"W-what?"

"Empress…!"

"If we can make a stand in other countries, we will!"

"No," Nunnally ordered. "Jeanette, Rose, proceed with the borders. Report to Kaguya once your finished. Sarah, I want you to start moving the refugees out of the Tokyo settlement."

"Mistress," Sarah started silently, "what are you going to do?"

Though the hesitation was so very evident in her voice, the dots still all scrambled, obeying the Empress's orders without any reluctance. There they were, all lined in their positions, fulfilling their orders all the while listening for more.

Nunnally looked up at the skies. "Pest control."

* * *

His lungs screamed in agony, as his breath hastily escapes from his lips, all the while the Guren slammed back against the ground. Tiny bloody droplets fell from his mouth, the loud, grinding gears forcibly entwined within his ears. His eyes widened, the sounds of missiles instantly coming his way. He shot the Guren upwards, the piercing, sharp feathers entrenched through the night skies. Cold moonlight reflected against the metal, as he stared down at the enemy Knightmare. His finger hovered near the radiant wave surger, the flurry of communication lines immediately bombarding him.

How'd they manage to find him? The only ones who knew the Guren was here, was Suzaku and Euphie. Neither Rakshata nor Lloyd could track his location, and there was no one else here! He was sure of it!

Lelouch threw the Guren backwards, grunting slightly at the immense pressure heaving against his chest. His hazy vision began shifting left and right, with tiny spots of black dotting his surroundings. A searing pain adorned his insides, the very midst of decay tearing apart his flesh from the back of his mind. His heart was screaming, shouting, enraged by the suffocating atmosphere placed upon it, the stubborn fatigue refusing to leave it. He could hear those aggressive beats sweeping toward him, claws outstretched, swords ready for the last fatal blow.

He grimaced, as he narrowly dodging the attack. He grabbed the sword and demolished it, the black waves radiating out towards him. He shoved himself back, and dove below, trying to put some distance between himself and the upcoming white Knightmare. He stole a look back.

Britannian. The Knightmare looked familiar, but he couldn't recall where that specific model came from. It wasn't new.

Lelouch was about to turn back when he came to a sudden halt, the pilot immediately a mere few yards away from him. Rapidly, he drew out the slash harkens, only to be stopped by the the outdrawn sword lying against its palm. The metal wrapped around the chords, and with one thrust, he demolished the shoulders of the Guren. Lelouch coughed, the vibrations violently throwing him back and forth. Lelouch barely managed to draw the wings around him, and automatically, he vanished the warnings already appearing on his screen.

Lelouch stared down, desperately gripping the controls, reaching out to the claw once again to fend off yet another upcoming attack. He activated the defense systems and braced himself for the bullets now reigning down on him.

It was coming from above.

He narrowed his eyes. He tapped his finger twice, counting down the seconds until the Knightmare appeared, before removing himself out of the pilot's range. He steadied himself, and in that moment, he raced forward, and latched the claw onto the Knightmare's head. He took a deep breath, before sending the shockwaves down the Knightmare's body. Delicate cracks emerged from the outside, giving an edge to the crimson sparks imploding through the helpless air. He pushes down against the thrusters, forcing the enemy Knightmare back, before pushing away, the entire thing exploding before his eyes.

A sea of sinful fire instantly surged beneath him. Lelouch leaned forward hesitantly, knowing full well the Knightmare was destroyed. He could feel the presence of an inkling life struggling from the depths, a small existence in the midst of chaos. Familiar thoughts radiated from inside the turbulence, the quiet desperations intermingling within the quiet animosity of an insanity he'd come to know all too well. Cries resounded from his brain, and though the physical pain had stopped, in the end the emotional wounds continued reopening, prying open whatever vanity he managed to amass.

Lelouch's lips parted slightly. Where was it? Was it down there?

Slowly, he piloted the Guren downwards, the metallic shimmer dying out from the freezing atmosphere. He landed the Knightmare and opened the cockpit, and gradually made his way down onto the ruined concrete. It'll take some time, but soon people will come to the tower to assess the damage. He couldn't wait anymore. He had to go to Euphie now. Besides, she's already lost her advantage here.

But he couldn't leave yet.

Carefully, he stepped outside, the remnants of parts scattered everywhere. Footsteps reached the crumbling erosion, his ears selecting what little masses it had left to arm itself against the callous air. He meandered through the broken bits, crossing over from one side to the next without the slightest reluctance. He never bothered with his empty reflection, never even seemed to notice the warmth glazing over his skin, the shattering moans easily flying through the air, nary a comfort nor encouragement in sight. And he stopped, just a feet away from where he should be.

Though a veil of clouds shown covered the moon, the fires alone managed to burn away the shroud the pilot hid behind.

Bloodstained, blond hair scattered over his grimy face, soulless, blue eyes peeking out from underneath. Pale skin reflected the shattered purgatory surrounding him, though dark shadows rested on the lines of his once lively face. A cold, sadistic smile grazed his lips, with tiny, dry specks of blood dotting his chin. His white pilot suite lay in a tattered mess, the horrific burns a result from the tainted curse coursing through his veins.

Lelouch stopped, the nearest tips of hardened ice reaching his fingernails.

"Gino?"


End file.
